Title: Power Outage

Author: Stormhawk

Rating: PG-13


Matrix: Wachowski Brothers and Warner Brothers

ATS: Me.

Greer, Moires: Overlord Mordax

Stef: Me

Word Count: 5495

Summary: Part three of Powers, everything comes together, for better or for worse.

Notes: I'm sorry this took so long to come out, but it's not fault my computer died. But I have a new one so no more breaks in fics (except when I'm not feeling creative), and that means I'll be able to work on the novel again.

Note 2: This took me waaaaay longer than expected, but I'm getting a lot done on the novel, so I guess it's a fair trade off.

Note 3: This takes place the instant PS finishes.

Note 4: This didn't exactly turn out as planned, but I promise the next fics will be better.

Please read and Review.

There were no muscle spasms, no last fall of the chest as his last breath left his body, just a slowly cooling corpse.

Stef dropped her gun after standing there for a moment, staring at him in disbelief, still not fully able to comprehend what she had done.

She walked over to him, knelt beside him and closed his eyes, flinching slightly at the odd texture of his skin. "Look," she whispered to him, "if you stay dead, I swear I'm going to shoot myself, come after you and pull you out of whatever hell has sucked you in. You mean too many things to too many people to stay like this." She required a blanket and pulled it up over him.

"Stef?" She turned and saw Jones standing there, but turned away from Greer's body. "We have to go and speak to Clarke."

"Clarke? Doesn't this kind of stuff go straight through the Mainframe?"

"We have to see Clarke first."

"I don't know if I can...What do I say?"

"Please, you have to try, I can't do this on my own."

He shifted them away and they appeared in a corridor of the Agency. "Clarke should be here by now," Jones said as he opened the door.

They both stopped as they walked into the conference room. It was identical to their normal room but instead of Clarke at the head of the table, the Mainframe was sitting there. Not the entire mainframe, but the part that had once been a little boy named Ryan, the same little boy who was the chief cause of the war between man and machine, the reason that the Matrix had been created and the reason that any of them were standing there.

Jones paled several shades, and looked as through he was going to faint. He had expected to talk to the Mainframe, but after talking to Clarke, at least if had been able to speak to Clarke first it would have been somewhat of a confidence booster for him.

"Well aren't you going to sit?" The Mainframe asked, "I despise it when people waste my time."

Jones and Stef sat down and the Mainframe flipped open a folder, "as I understand it, you wish for Vincent N Greer, Recruit of Agency 001, who was terminated less than five minutes ago after going insane and labelled a danger to the system. A danger that killed two C-class civilians as well as two D-class that were being used as Agent hosts at the time, to be made into an Agent?"

"That is correct sir," Jones said quietly.

"And your reason for this is what?"

"Greer would not be a danger nor would be insane as an agent. All of this is linked to his 'power,' the same power as the Edmund twins had."

"I am aware of that."

"He would no longer be susceptible to the neuron damage caused by the pod hardware."

"Recruits die everyday," he said in a dismissive tone. "Though most are not as strange as Mr. Greer," he folded his hands together in a way that was familiar to both of the agents. "So what would warrant resurrecting this one?"

"Recruit Greer is the best recruit we have ever had. Fast, skilled, lethal..." Jones started to say.

"So?" The Mainframe asked, "so what?" he surpassed his average cohorts in ability to a level that every recruit should hope to reach. I need a stronger reason to take such a risk." He looked directly at Stef, "we already have a liability, and I don't like taking risks."

"Liability?" Stef asked, barely controlling the emotion in her voice.

"Yes experiment 5323, you are a liability. If you chose to aid the exiles or the rebels..."

"Like Carlson?"

"Stef," Jones whispered under his breath, "please don't..."

"A full system program, one of yours, started the war by aiding the first one and now he works for The Merovingian. I am not perfect, but I am not a liability. And as for risks, wasn't it a risk to help the last B1 unit to 01?"

The Mainframe went quiet, Stef sat back in her seat and Jones made the decision that whether permitted by the system or not, he was going to try and bring Greer back. If he was exiled for the act, he would at least have the knowledge that he had truly done everything that he could.

"That was different," the Mainframe mumbled.

Jones was distraught, when he had imagined this moment (which he had expected to come much later, as only a few hours ago he had told Greer that he had up to a year left); he had been much more eloquent. He had listed every reason that Greer should be brought back as an gent, and had found his case to be sound, but now that it was really happening, he found himself speechless.

"Agent Brown has submitted no less than 1500 proposals and requests for your deletion Agent Mimosa, I'm not sure that having another experiment like yourself would be very productive."

"What if?" Stef asked, "you give your permission for Greer to be converted into an Agent and if he is deemed to be a failure, then you can delete us both."

The Mainframe considered this for a moment, "I find this to be acceptable," he looked at Jones, "you may begin the conversion."

"Thank you sir," Jones said and the Mainframe disappeared.

Jones turned to Stef with the widest smile she had ever seen. She smirked back at him, "shouldn't you start?"

He nodded and shifted them to his lab. He sat down and started typing furiously.

"Do you mind if I stick around?" Stef asked as she sat on the bench in front of him.

"Of course not, I would welcome the distraction actually."

"That's the opposite of what I wanted to do, I didn't want to distract you in case..."

"I am not going to make a mistake because of your presence, and if something goes wrong, there are failsafes. And if I have a distraction, I'll be able to work without constantly thinking about the fact that he is, for the moment, dead."

"Don't think about it like that."

"There is no other way I can think about it. There is a chance that this won't work."

"I didn't know."

"There is also a far less chance than there was in your case. I've calculated it and at best it has a fifty-eight percent chance of working. You had eighty-three percent. The hardware responsible for his power may and probably will cause complications in the process."

"I know you Jones, you'll sweat your own code to make every part of that fifty-eight percent count."

"I hope it's enough."

She smiled down at him, "I've got faith in you, but more importantly, Greer has faith in you. You can do this." Jones nodded and waited for his computer to process something. "So," she asked after a moment of silence, "how long does this take? I'm more than a little interested in this."

"It takes weeks, but a significant portion is automated. As to how much time I personally spend programming...well I've only done this twice...with Whitman I spent three hundred and eighty hours, but that was because I had to write everything from scratch, so now that portion is automated. With you it was about one hundred and fifty hours, and I imagine Greer will take some time between those."

"You spent one hundred and fifty hours working on me?" she asked quietly, "I never knew that."

"You never asked."

"That's because I never expected that it would take you anywhere near that long."

"It's a very complicated process, but I think it's worth it."

"Yeah?" she thought for a moment, "do you think that Brown and Smith know, or should we go tell them? I can go do it if you want."

"Well if you wouldn't mind, otherwise I suspect they will find out soon enough."

"I don't mind, I'll be back in a little while Jonesy."

Jones nodded and she walked out the door.

"Jonesy," he whispered, Greer had been the first one to call him that, and he hoped more than anything that he would be able to hear him say it again.

A memory came back to him.


"Jonesy?" Greer asked reached over and gently grabbed the agent's tie, "can I ask you something?"

Jones nodded, "of course."

"Why are you so much cuter than the other agents?"

Jones blushed, "I'm sure that's just your perception."

"No," Greer said as he scooted his chair as close as he could get and gently traced his fingers around the agent's features, "you are so very much cuter than the others. Delicate, almost. Look at Brown, he's dumb muscle with the looks of an ape."

"He is rather simian-like," Jones said with a chuckle.

Greer made some monkey sounds and then leaned in and kissed Jones.


Jones buried his face in his hands and cried, he knew that Greer might be coming back, but the possibility that he wasn't was the most frightening prospect he had ever had to live with.


Brown's office was closest, so Stef went there first. She knocked on the door and waited an answerless minute before pushing it open. He wasn't in his main office, but the door to his office was open.

There was a file on his desk, quietly, she flipped it open the cover, just enough to read the name. It was the file of the fairy exile Pixel, shrugging it off, she walked to the door of the gym.

Brown was savaging his punching bag again, it was the only thing he had that approached a hobby. With a ferocious kick, it was freed of its chain and hit the wall near her head. "Why didn't you knock?" he asked as he required a replacement for his sunglasses, his originals were in pieces on the floor, crushed under one of his heavy feet.

"I did," she said with a shrug, "you didn't hear me."

"The recruit is dead?"

"Yes, for the moment."

"What?" Brown demanded.

Stef bent down and picked up the punching bag, "poor Bob."

"Bob?" Brown asked in confusion.

"You beat this thing up all the time, it deserves a name," she shook her head and looked up at him, "Greer is dead, but he's being made into an agent."

"I can't believe that the Mainframe approved such an act," Brown snarled angrily as he snatched the punching bag out of her hand.

"Well it did," she said shortly, the anger that was coming from him was tangible, "and there's nothing you can do about it."

"We'll see," he said as she left his office.

With more than a little trepidation, Stef walked toward Smith's office. Things had happened, and things had been said that couldn't be taken back or forgotten. Nothing had been the same since they had escaped the chateaux.

Both of them had tried to act, not so much like it hadn't happened, but more like they could move past it. After a few days they had stopped pretending, and tried to stay as clear from each other as possible.

She knocked on the door and walked in, not straying too far in, "Jones thought I should inform you that the Mainframe approved for Greer to be converted into an agent."

"Well, that's good news," Smith said with an attempt at a smile.

"If it works."

"Stef...are you all right?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" she asked with no emotion in her voice.

"Well, you just terminated a friend."

"Terminated?" she echoed, "that's a nice, safe, detached word for it. I just killed Greer! I shot him! If this doesn't work I'm not sure I'm going to be able to live with that on my conscious."

"It was an order, you had no choice."

"Of course I had a choice you sanctimonious son of a bitch, there is always a choice." Her eyes flashed angrily at him, "there's always a right choice and a wrong choice."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Because Jones asked me to."

"And that made all of the difference?"

"Yes, it did. If Jones was giving Greer up, then there truly was no other choice."

"You said there was always a choice."

"The other choice would have been the wrong choice." She shook her head, "I really wish I could talk to you about this, but I doubt you'd understand."

"Try me."

"I can't, I doubt you've ever felt like this after taking a life."

"You aren't ever going to forgive me are you?" he asked as she reached for the door.

Without turning, she shook her head, "things aren't going to go back to the way they were, what's going to happen in the future I'm not sure, but I don't even know you anymore." He said nothing. She turned and stared at him, "you know how hard it is to hide a relationship from the Mainframe, you went through it, you knew. I've been with Darth for months and you never bothered to tell me about her..."

"They are difficult memories."

"Life is difficult, life isn't fair. If it was fair, Greer wouldn't be dead, and even if he was, there wouldn't be a problem bringing him back. We might have lost him forever, and worrying about that is more important than trying to salvage what is left of our friendship." She slammed the door as she walked out, and shifted to her office.

She slumped behind her desk and started to cry, the image of Greer dying kept replaying in her head, the single split-second of time just before the bullet had hit him. For that single moment, there had been a look on his face like he had known what was going to happen, as far gone as he was, he still seemed to have known what a bullet meant.

After about ten minutes, she wiped her eyes and shifted back to the lab. Jones was slowly typing and sniffling at the same time. She walked over to him, handed him a handkerchief and waited until he dried his face before wrapping her arms around him. "Have a good cry?" she asked.

"I couldn't help myself."

"Neither could I Jonesy, but he needs tech not tears," she sat on the slab in front of him.

He paused for a moment, "so what did the others say?"

"Brown's...Brown, displeased, angry, grumpy, beating Bob to death."

"The punching bag?"

"How did you know its name was Bob?" she asked with a grin. Then she stopped grinning and regarded him seriously, "the thing's name isn't really Bob is it?"

"No. He's had that punching bag...well new required versions as no single one lasts more than half an hour...since before your grandparents were born. I had observed him several times with it, and then I began to, in my mind at least, call it Bob. I was, however, unstable when I named an inanimate object."

"You? Unstable? Yeah, right, you're about the most stable person I know."

"It was just after my addiction," he said quietly.


"You have nothing to apologise for."

"Did you feel high when you accessing the Mainframe?"

"At first I didn't know what I was feeling...and then I realised that was exactly it, I was feeling. Before that, I...I never knew how good it could be just to feel like I was alive, smells, tastes, sensations, I felt as though I was another person. A living person. It pushed my subroutines past a point of no return."

"Don't let Greer access it ok?"

"I wasn't planning on it. It felt so wonderful to be alive, but then it started to interfere with my duties, and then they realised how dangerous it was. But, they couldn't restore me to what I was before the access. And I am ever so glad for that."

"Is that when you started...looking for someone?"

He stopped typing for a moment and stared up at her, "Stef, I was armed with a set of emotions I didn't know how to use, or how to feel properly. And I was surrounded by a system that was ashamed of me, a man who wanted to delete me so badly that he knocked me unconscious and a command agent who only wanted to keep me around because of my skills."

"Do you miss it?"

"For the longest time I did, for longer than you have been alive I wanted nothing more than to access it someway. But I've found something better. Something more addictive and intoxicating than anything I ever imagined."

"Being with Greer."

Jones nodded, "simply being in his presence is better than every moment I ever experienced while accessing the Mainframe. When he holds me...or kisses me...there are no words."

"You're wrong, there is one word. Love."

Jones smiled, nodded, and resumed typing.

After a little while in silence, Stef looked up at Jones, "so what you wanna talk about?"

"How about immortality?"

"Feeling philosophical?"

"Ever since Greer found out what you are, he was fixated on the idea of being an immortal. Immortal is all I've ever been, what's the mortal viewpoint on those who cannot die?"

"So far as most people are concerned, the only people who can't die are vampires, Dorian Grey and Tolkien's elves. It's nothing more than a fantasy."

"What about when you find out it's not a fantasy?"

"I didn't find out until after it had happened. People, on the most basic level, are afraid of death. They don't want to die...most of them don't anyway..."

"Those who do? Mentally unstable people who wish to commit suicide?"

"I'm not mentally unstable."

"You?" he asked as he looked up from the keyboard as something processed, "I had no idea."

"And I never knew you were such a nice guy, I wish I had of found out sooner."

"We're immortal," he said with a smile, "you have more than enough time to explain if you want."

"Some people...not so much want to die, but don't care either way. I was like that, was, not anymore. But Greer, he always knows what he wants, and he always finds a way to get it. And wanting to be immortal is an extension of that, he's taking life in the palm of his hands and fighting it until he gets what he wants."

"That insanity he suffered though for his last hours, he's been trying to fight that, for longer than he ever wanted to admit to me. He's very strong."

"He is strong enough to make it back to you Jones, don't you dare doubt that."

"But what if he comes back...but malfunctioning, like Whitman?"

Stef sat up and stared into his eyes, "listen to me Jones, what happened with Carol is not your fault, it's not the system's fault and least of all her fault. Why she did the things she did has nothing to do with any of that."

"So what does it have to do with?"

"I'm not sure you'd understand my answer, so let's just say divine intervention."

"You aren't making any sense."

"Jonesy, if you haven't noticed, life doesn't make sense most of the time."

"Actually, I had."

Stef looked up at the light above the table she was sitting on, there was nothing special about it, just a small, round light. But it was an image forever ingrained into her mind, it had been the first thing she had seen when she had been reborn.

"Why did I wake up alone?" she asked quietly.


"I woke up here, alone, and I had no idea what the hell was going on. Why wasn't anyone here?"

"Brown was trying some last minute tactics to stop you from being brought online. Also, a system program shouldn't need anyone to hold his or her hand, a walk between floors should be no trouble."

"I just always found it kind of weird."

"We'll be here for Greer when he wakes up. Both for him, and I'll probably be adjusting him until...I'll be fine tuning his programming for months."

"He's that messed up? His code I mean, not him."

"There is a significant portion of data missing, a rather noticeable amount actually."

"Is it important?"

"I can't tell, it's missing and it won't tell me what it was. I would most likely assume it to be the equivalent of .dll files, unimportant since most are scrapped for system software anyway."

"So he's not going to come back looking like a caveman with three arms and green hair?"

"Hopefully not," Jones said with a small smile.


Hours later...

"Jones, take a break."

"I don't need sleep."

"I didn't say sleep, I said a break, you look like you're strung out on bad coffee and been working for forty-eight hours."

"That's ridiculous, I've only been working for six hours."

"On something very, very important to you. You've got more than six hours work done, I know that."

"Yes," he said quietly, "I've done twenty-four hours worth. But if I slow down, I'm afraid of glitching."


He took his hands away from the keyboard, and flexed his fingers. "Perhaps for a little while." Stef yawned and rubbed her eyes. "You don't have to stay," he said, "I'm sure there's somewhere you'd rather be, or someone you'd rather be with."

"I'm staying tonight, I'm not promising every night, but I don't want to leave you on your own for the first night. This isn't the first night Darth has had to spend on his own."

"If I may ask, you seem unusually quiet around Smith."

"Yeah well, shit happens."

"We seem to be doing a lot of talking, maybe I can help you."

She hesitated for a moment, "some of what I might say is deletion-worthy."

"There is a lot we do that is deletion worthy. So unless you gave all the system codes to an exile I wouldn't worry about it..."

"I wasn't the one who did that."


"Smith. Hacked his own software, all his agent security codes, hacked himself right open in front of Mero."

"Mero...The Merovingian?"

"Yeah, the one and only, and thank god there's only one."

Jones let out a deep breath, "that's...that is...if that's true why aren't we overrun with exiles?"

"I destroyed both copies."

"That act...it's traitorous. And you left a few things out of your report didn't you?"

"Yeah, quite a bit actually. Do you remember a recruit named Ivy...something, I don't know her last name."

"The one Smith was in a relationship with?"

Stef spluttered, "it's always the quiet ones who know everything. We aren't very good at keeping secrets are we?"

"I make assumptions, usually they are correct."

"The assumptions of a genius are very dangerous. What the Mainframe knows is the system-friendly version. I can trust you can't I? Screw the question, I know I can."

"Thank you."

Stef went to spill everything, but stopped for a moment, this was going to require tact. She knew she could trust him, but not implicitly when it came to exile secrets. "It's on the report that I beat up one of Mero's guards? I got the information from him. I found him alone and unarmed."


"Luck I suppose. Then I found my way into the wherever-it-was, the programmed place, digital shooting gallery thing. It's a kind of hell."

"In what way?"

"It's a deathtrap to whoever is unlucky enough to get sent there. And if you don't keep the exit open, you don't have a way out." She sighed, remembering what 0x1x0x1 was like. "He was down there, but so was Ivy."

"That's...unusual, I've stopped saying impossible to situations like that. Trapped like the Edmunds?"

"He thought so, but I think his vision was somewhat skewed...and obscured further by the flying clothes...She played the perfect part, but she was nothing but a shapeshifter. When I told him I had a way out, he told me point blank he didn't want to leave."

"I see."

"Then Brown dragged me back there, and gave me to Carlson. I hate that jerk so much."

"Brown or Carlson?" Jones asked with a perfectly straight face.

"Brown. Carlson, underneath the hostility, anger, lapdog qualities around his boss and the fact he stabbed me and broke my arm, is nicer than Brown."

"I have no trouble believing that."

"But he's an exile, a traitor, and he started the war. Shouldn't you be reprimanding me for talking of an exile like that?"

"No system program lasts forever, and when that time comes, I am choosing life over death. I have no love for the exiles, and will deal with any that openly attack the system, but they are also people."

"I love you Jonesy."

"I'm taken."

"I don't mean like that! But I'm glad I'm not the only one who sees them in that light."

"So what happened next?"

"Me, Carlson and the evil French guy went back to hell. Mero gave Smith the choice, which one out of me and Ivy he wanted to take back to the Matrix – cause then we thought this place was some kind of unstable error – so he chose."

"He made a bad decision?"

"Not bad, it was wrong. He chose Ivy over me. I'm not being arrogant, but if had chosen me we all would have gotten out of there."

"That's not arrogant, you have an unusual way of thinking that gets you out a lot of situations."

"So I was left in hell. I could have died in there and he didn't seem to care less. I really thought I was going to die in there. I haven't been able to see him the same way since."

"That's understandable."

"The story hasn't finished yet."

"Oh dear."

"You want to hear the rest or not?"

"I'm captivated. This is far more interesting than the report."

"In this room were a bunch of exiles, they used to be prisoners but they had been degraded to live targets. We helped each other and we got into Mero's stronghold."

"You keep saying Mero, like you know him well."

"Calling him that pisses him off. But the part where he offers me a job comes later."

Jones choked and went goggle-eyed, "he offered you a job?"

She cast her eyes downward, "you don't want to know how seriously I was considering it. For longer than I want to admit to anyone, I was so close to accepting the offer."

"What happened to Ivy?"

"The real Ivy is and was dead. But Mero had threatened to kill fake Ivy so Smith hacked his own codes, he could have been the downfall of the entire system for her. Just for her. He wouldn't have done that for me."

"You wouldn't need him too," Jones said plainly.

"I was going to kill him you know, I really was. I didn't move my gun until I'd pulled the trigger, I don't know if it was a spasm or what, but I just couldn't. I blame Stevie, she still needs him."

"I think we need to take a break."

"I'm dumping everything on you aren't I?"

"So I am."

"So what's your idea of a lunchbreak?"

"I don't know, but it's just the memory transfer, that will take a couple of hours and it doesn't feel right to sit here and view all of his memories. It would be spying."

"Everyone has stuff in their memories that they don't want anyone else seeing. So what do you want to do for a couple of hours?"

"I really don't know. It's not like there is a convention on."

"You like cons?"

"I have been to a couple."

"How many constitutes a couple?"


"If you were human you would either be the richest game designer around or still living with your parents."

"I'd be living in the basement of a house owned by the Architect and the Oracle?" he asked, looking slightly scared, "and the Mainframe?"

"You're right, it's disturbing."


One month later...

Jones looked up at Stef and nodded, "he's ready."

"Well...are you going to do it?"

"Do you know that this is the true test? You can run a hundred diagnostics, but you never know if a program is going to work until they sit up and inform you that they are working."


"Yes Stef?"

"Turn him on."

"All right."

Jones closed his eyes, "Greer," he whispered, "please come back to me."

He pressed the enter key.

There was a swirl of green characters and the two watched on in silent amazement as they formed a body, and then, from the feet up - like he was being printed - the characters were given Greer's suited image.

After all of him appeared and after what seemed to be an eternity, Greer's chest rose as he took his first breath.

Jones smiled as tears of joy ran down his cheeks.

"Yes!" Stef yelled as she pumped her fist in the air.

And then Greer screamed.

His back arched back as he screamed hoarsely and clutched his chest with both of his hands.

"Jones?" Stef asked fearfully as Greer started to thrash around the table.

"Hold him down!" Jones ordered, "don't let him hurt himself!" he barked as he typed furiously, trying to figure out what was going wrong.

Stef jumped up and ran over to the slab, pulled Greer back tot he middle and held him down. "Wake up!" she begged him, "come on Greer, you are so close."

Greer's eyes snapped over so suddenly that it scared her, he shot straight up and grabbed her wrists, "I've been shot," he whispered, "help me, rebels, Yami..."

"Shh..." she said as she lifted one of her hands to his face, "you're fine. That was months ago. Take a deep breath and look around, you're fine."

Greer sucked in a deep breath and looked around, "if I'm ok?" he whispered, "then why do I feel so strange?"

"The feeling goes away after a couple of days," she said with a smile.

"Greer?" Jones whispered.

"I'll let you two catch up," Stef whispered to Jones as she walked over to him, "god knows you've got a lot of catching up to do. I'm not coming anywhere near you guys for at least a week."

"Thank you for staying with me."

"You're welcome Jonesy," she said with a grin.

"Jonesy?" Greer echoed, "like the guy in Dreamcatcher?" he asked with a wry grin before a serious expression crossed his face, "Jones, did you get Yami? Or did the rebels get away with her?"

"Yami...?" Jones went pale, "that's the last thing you remember?"

Greer nodded, "yeah...why? Shouldn't it be?"

"That was months ago, that was before you...I...we..." Jones collapsed into his chair. He ran his hands through his hair and started typing, "there was some data missing," he muttered, "but it didn't seem to be important..." he trailed off and was replaced by the sound of keys being used at an impossible speed.

"What's the problem?" Greer whispered to Stef, "he looks like he's about to pop a circuit."

"We don't have circuits Agent Greer," Stef said, feeling then was as good a time as any to break the news that he wasn't quite human anymore.

"Ag...uh, what? I'm an agent? When the hell did that happen?"

"About two minutes ago. As to the last few months, they were interesting to say the least..."

"Stef could I see you for a moment?" Jones asked, interrupting her.

He pointed to the screen as she walked over and started typing.

Don't say anything, it's too much to put on his shoulders all at once.

But he's forgotten everything about you guys, that's got to be killing you.

I can see if I can rebuild his memories, but I don't want to burden him with a relationship he can't remember.

Are you sure?

I will talk to him later. For now, we should pretend like nothing is wrong.

Can you do that? I know how much he means to you.

I will have to try.

So what do you want me to do?

Take him to the conference room, that's where the others are waiting.

She squeezed his hand for a moment, and leant in to whisper, "beneath the amnesia, he's still Greer, and he still loves you. You haven't lost him forever."

Jones nodded, and watched them walk from his lab before he allowed the tears to fall from his face. It had worked, Greer was alive.

...but he had forgotten everything.

Jones balled his hand into a fist in an effort to concentrate, and decided that no matter how much effort it would take, he would either get Greer's memories back, or work to reforge the single most important relationship he had ever or would ever have.