Author's Note: A Retroactive Continuity, or Retcon if you will, is the altering of previously known facts in order for the universe to conform to new story lines. This is mine. This is a retcon of Hellboy in the Dark Horse Comics Universe. Mike Mignola and Dark Horse owns the character and all rights associated with him/her/it. Elements of the Witchblade series will be mentioned in later chapters. Witchblade is published by Top Cow Comics. Picture Credit: JPRart

Chapter 2

I fell asleep in Mom's arms around three in the morning. The smell of coffee brewing woke me at seven. This time I wasn't wide awake. Dad was already sitting in his armchair reading the paper. I mumbled morning salutations and found my way to the bathroom to relieve myself. Imagine my confusion as I was standing in front of the toilet, with the seat up, grasping at my crotch.

"What the hell am I doing?"

There was that confused feeling again, but this time it was more pronounced, like I was actually missing something. Once I had assumed the proper position, I looked back at the evidence with a clearer mind. The panties, bra, clothes in general were proper, but unfamiliar. And now standing in front of the toilet like I was going to pee… like a man.

Why was I used to doing male things? Did this have something to do with waking up in the morgue? Was my brain literally fried?

Everything seemed wrong, and it was beginning to grate on my nerves.

With a sigh, I decided to immerse myself in the role of a young woman. Maybe if I dove full force into feminine things then I could kick start my brain back to where it was supposed to be.

~O~

Nothing I found in my closet was suitable. I was a modern teenaged girl. There was nothing but jeans, running shoes, flats, and sandals, along with a plethora of shirts that might as well have been clothes for a boy.

I wasn't surprised to find Mom standing at the door, watching me. After only one day, she was starting to become a constant in my life, always hovering. It would become annoying if she kept it up, but for now it was comforting to know that she was there for me. What frustrated me was that I still couldn't remember a damn thing about her or Dad.

"Can't find anything?"

I shook my head. "I was looking for a dress, but apparently I'm a tomboy."

Mom's eyes widened in surprised delight. She held out her hand. "Come with me."

I was led through her bedroom into her vast closet. In the very back, there was a separate section of brighter clothing that didn't seem to match my mother's style. She was more of a Suzie-Homemaker.

"I bought these for you last year, before you decided to wear black as a fashion statement. They never made it into your closet, but I held on to them." After selecting one she held it out for me. "Here, try this."

Well it was a dress, and it was the exact opposite of black. I looked at it for a second and tried to figure out how to put it on. There were no obvious zippers or buttons, but the upper portion seemed somewhat stretchy, so I deduced that it was supposed to be slipped on.

Mom looked at me expectantly, and I knew she was waiting for me to strip. The nightshirt came off. I wasn't wearing a bra to bed, so the only thing I was wearing were black bikini panties. I pulled the dress on over my head and tugged it down until it was in place. Mom beamed at me.

"I knew you'd be beautiful if you wanted."

It was sleeveless with two wide shoulder straps that melded into a wide vee showing what little cleavage I possessed. There was that weird feeling again. Something in my head didn't mind exposing anything from the waist up, but only showing off my upper chest with hints of breasts was odd. The dress ended right at my knees, open and billowy.

"You'll need white panties so they won't show as much."

As much? Just how thin was this thing? I just nodded. "I'll go change."

Then I was exposed to exactly how it felt to have a dress brush against my smooth legs. At the door, I turned around. "Do you think you can help me with my hair and make up?"

I think I'd just made her day. She held her hands together under her chin and grinned. "I'd love to, sweetie." Just how bad of a daughter had I been?

The panty switch was easy enough, considering I didn't have to take off any outer layers to get to the ones I was wearing. When I swapped them out with plain white ones, I stepped back and looked at myself through the full length mirror in the corner.

Yep, with the sun streaming through my window, I could see the outline of my body through the dress. It was way thin.

There were a pair of flat white sandals in my closet that I thought went well enough to slip on before I returned. When I got back, Mom directed me to her bathroom to wash my face.

~O~

Now I knew something was wrong. There was no doubt in my mind. Mom fixed my hair in a long braid that hung three-quarters the way down my back. Everything felt very tight and unfamiliar on my head. The make up, while light wasn't something I'd ever experienced. The taste of the gloss on my lips was wrong, the weight of the mascara on my lashes was heavy, even though it wasn't very thick, and the eyeliner popping out my eyes stung slightly when applied. Everything that was done was performed for the very first time.

All of these clues led me to the belief that either I had never worn makeup and had my hair braided, or…

Shaking my head, I tossed that stupid thought from my brain.

While waiting for Mom to get dressed, I went through my purse to find any more clues as to my strange experiences. The wallet contained several pictures of unknown origin. I took them out, one at a time. Some contained little messages or names that I could associate with each person. Some even had me in them as well. And there I was with make up on.

"Jesus." A cigarette case with five pre-rolled joints inside.

I kept the Bic lighter, and tossed the handful of condoms as well. At least I knew I wasn't a virgin and that I practiced safe sex. Thank god. Though the thought of a guy mounting me from the front or from behind left a nauseated feeling in my stomach.

If what I remembered about the waitress at Chili's yesterday was correct, I might had switched teams or was at least bisexual. With another gander at the pictures of certain boys in the wallet, I shook my head. Definitely a lesbian. The guys just weren't doing it for me.

Well that's one more talk to have with the parents.

A zipped up pocket revealed four tampons and two panty liners, accompanied with a half empty bottle of Midol. Frosty winters ran down my spine. Intellectually, I knew that it was a natural function of every female mammal. However, the thought of participating in this at any time in my past was unacceptable. This was not something that I would have forgotten. This left further credence to my outlandish suspicions.

I closed the revealing pocket and then upended the purse on top of my bed. Empty gum wrappers, pens, various half-used pieces of makeup fell out, along with a crumbled five dollar bill, a can of pepper spray, and a few business cards.

The cards were innocuous enough. One of them even had a message on the back: Call me anytime and I'll return the favor. Thanks for the B.J.

That one immediately went into the trash. There was no telling upon what conditions I'd have to meet for calling the mechanic or the plastic surgeon, so those cards went as well. I did keep the investment banker's card. After I checked that out, I'd toss his. As secretive as I was before I died, there was no telling if I had some hidden bank account somewhere that was feeding this guy money for stock market gambling. But considering my previous drug problem… well, that was probably a longshot.

…

Speaking of which, why wasn't I spazzing out for an armful of heroin? From what I remembered, the stuff was mega-addictive. Shouldn't I be in the corner shaking or dribbling up white foam or something?

With a shake of my head, I cleaned up my mess and stuffed everything back into the purse.

My forehead felt weird. With all of my hair pulled back, it felt like I was going for a face lift the hard way. After a few deep breaths I calmed myself and vowed to find out why all of this was so unfamiliar and felt so wrong.

~O~

Living up to my parents agreement, we returned to the hospital. It didn't take too much understanding to find out that I was the A-number one priority for a small team of doctors. How many people wake up after being dead for so long? It was like I was royalty and the petri dish that Alexander Fleming accidentally left open overnight, combined. They just had to figure out if I was a freak of nature or the metaphorical penicillin for death.

Mom and Dad sat in front of the cherrywood desk in the doctor's office while I was seated to the side with my legs crossed at the knee. While that particular position felt odd, it also felt right at the same time. Wearing a dress and sitting with my legs splayed apart or with a foot kicked up on a knee just didn't exude good manners. Mom was pleased, either way, at my method of decorum. She just smiled at my legs and posture, giving me a contented nod.

"The blood tests came back totally clear of any toxin or opioid. Considering how she was found, it would be medically impossible to rid her system in so short of a time."

I added a little something to the doctor's search of answers. "You need to add pot to that. Mom and I found a bag of the stuff in my room last night."

He glanced over at me with a quizzical look. "You found? You mean you didn't know that it was there or you forgot and ran across its presence?"

My cheeks may have reddened slightly. "Uh, forgot, in the bigger sense. I don't remember anything about my life before I woke up yesterday."

The doctor leaned back in his chair to take in the recent development. "Nothing?"

I shook my head. "Oh, I'm a fount of knowledge when it comes to pretty much everything else, but my family, life, home… nothing."

It was easy to see the wheels spinning in the doctor's head. "I suppose a post-traumatic retrograde amnesia isn't out of the question or maybe even transient global amnesia considering the… " he paused for a moment. "I'd like to set you up for a couple of tests, if you are willing."

I glanced at my parents and then shrugged. "I guess."

~O~

It was past one o'clock before I was released for the day. I'd never seen actual doctors working on the weekends before. Sure they're at the emergency rooms and hospitals in general, but the amount that I saw hovering around any room I happened to be in was short of astounding.

After dropping Dad at a friends, Mom and I loaded up the family truckster and headed toward the resale shop to see if I could unload the demented wardrobe that I had accumulated over the last year. A quick stop at the local Taco Bell and I was in beef burrito heaven.

"Your diet certainly has changed. I've never seen you eat so much red meat in my life."

With my mouth full, answering was problematic, so I waggled my eyebrows at her instead.

"You better ease up a little, or all of that will go straight to your hips."

Which probably wouldn't be a bad thing. I was skinny as a reed, probably due to the heroin and vegetarian diet. My bras, of which I wasn't currently wearing, indicated that I was a thirty-two B-cup. The way my waist was tucked in I guesstimated somewhere in the twenty-two to twenty-four inch. While my hips did widen a little larger than my bust, it wasn't by much. Combined with my five-four height, I was petite to say the least.

Amazingly enough, I didn't spill anything on my white sundress.

Once we were off the freeway and into the Village, a local shopping district dedicated to the rich and frugal, not to mention the artsy side of the city, I seemed to relax. It was like everything was very familiar, like I had spent a lot of time in this particular area.

"Did I used to come here?"

Mom shrugged. "We're twenty-five miles from home, sweetie. So unless you hitched a ride from your friends, I really don't see how."

With a frown, I tried to remember my friends to no avail. "Maybe it's better that I can't remember them. I can't imagine that they wouldn't know about my drug problem or even got me started in the first place."

Mom didn't say anything, but I could see out of the corner of my eye that she agreed. "I've never been the one to tell you who to be friends with, Gemma. Maybe I was wrong."

Giving her a gentle smile in return, I tried to ease her guilt. "It's turning out for the best. You're getting your daughter back, right?"

Mom nodded.

"Oh, turn right here. It's two blocks down on the left."

"How did you find this place?" She asked before thinking about it. "Never mind."

I giggled. That was new. I don't think I've ever thought of myself as a giggler. I was more of a belly laugh type of person, but I suppose that was the past and this was my future.

After we pulled up, I jumped out and went around the back to open up the rear door to the SUV. Four cardboard boxes lay in the back, along with a hand-truck. While I had a sense of being much stronger in the past, I couldn't handle any more than a single box, and that was pushing it. Clothes were heavy!

Mom helped me drag out the boxes, one at a time to set on the hand-truck before I heard someone behind us. "Can I give you ladies a hand?"

His Buffalo Exchange name tag read, Stephen. His smile and wandering eyes said that he found me attractive. My gag reflex told me that his tone body and boyish good looks weren't of any interest to me at all. "Uh, sure. Thanks."

I stepped back while he unloaded the other three boxes and wheeled the hand-truck around before speeding off to the front door. Mom secured the minivan while I followed Stephen to the Buy counter on the right side of the store. Looking around, I spotted several signs that indicated where the women's sections were. For a moment I was confused at all of the titles for each section: Misses, Woman's, Petite, Maternity. Figuring I was petite, I knew where I would be heading.

The three ladies behind the Buy counter looked on with interest while Stephen unloaded a box in front of each of them. The fourth girl was the one that was designated to talk to me.

"First time in?" I nodded. She smiled at me. "We'll look through what you brought in and see what we're interested in. Were you looking to buy anything today or do you want cash?"

Seeing the selection they had was large, I answered. "Trade definitely."

She nodded. "Okay, well have a look around and I'll find you when we have a total for you."

Mom finally caught up and looked interested in what the ladies were doing. I took her elbow and steered her toward the Petite section. "They have to check the clothes out."

She was amazed at what all was there and the diverse selection they had. "I'm raiding my wardrobe and coming back tomorrow," she said with a grin.

Almost an hour later, the Buy girl found me and gave me a figure. "There were a few things that we didn't buy; the rest we can donate for you or I can pack them back up."

I waved a hand. "Donate away."

~O~

Four large bags later and I felt confident enough that I had restarted my wardrobe. It definitely wasn't an even exchange, about a third actually, but at least I wouldn't look like a skank.

"Look, Starbucks!"

Mom and Dad's coffee was okay, but I was jonesing for something with a bit more kick. The thirty dollars I had left over from the resale was more than enough to satisfy my caffeine urge.

Mom went to grab a table while I stood in line. That was probably a good thing, considering the girl that took my order was someone else that I knew from my past.

Just like the waitress at Chili's, a visual memory went up in the television screen of my mind, this time it had sound as well. She was a lot younger than the thirty-something waitress. If this girl was twenty-one then I'd be surprised. She was fresh and clean, but in my memory she was wild and sweat-soaked, screaming out with unrestrained passion.

She made change and handed me an assortment of bills and coins before I leaned in. "I know this is going to sound weird, but do you know me?"

She blinked a couple of times and then really looked at me before shaking her head. "No."

There was a line behind me, so I wasn't able to interrogate her any further. I moved to the side and waited for my coffee. While I stood there, I watched her move. She was all too familiar to me. I knew she was double jointed in her hips, and loved her sex hard and fast. Her nails were long enough that I remember the feel of them trailing down my back, digging in, and leaving marks behind. She loved to bite my shoulder when she reached her orgasm.

Jenny Halverson, that was her name, and when she came, screaming my name, she called me… no, that can't be right.

"Triple espresso and Mocha Latte?"

Shaken from my vivid memory, I realized that the crotch of my panties were damp and my nipples were erect and popping the front of my sundress. Well that pretty much confirms that I'm a lesbian. Great, like I didn't have enough problems.

I took the two cups and went to sit down.

"Cold?"

"Hmm?" Mom discreetly gestured to my chest. I guess I won't be leaving the house without a bra on anymore. "Um, not exactly." When she raised an enquiring eyebrow at me, I elaborated. "I think I'm a lesbian."

No, I didn't time it so that she'd spew coffee all over my sundress. Her eyes froze on me for a moment before turning to the cashier. "The blonde girl?"

Without looking I nodded. "I remember… sex." It wasn't talking about the act that made my face feel like it was about to explode from embarrassment; it was the thought that I was telling my mother intimate details of my gayness and about a lover that she can actually put a face to. "Except she doesn't know who I am and I remember her calling out my name, except that it wasn't my name."

That seemed to throw Mom off her track. "Not your name? What did she call you?"

I took a sip of espresso and marveled at how much I'd missed the bitterness. "Red."

She blinked at what I'd revealed. "Is there any reason you know that she would call you by a that name?"

I shrugged.

We were about halfway through with our drinks when the line at the register died down to nothing. After steeling my nerve against making an ass of myself, I rose and moved to the end of the counter where the girl was restocking muffins when she spotted me.

"What else can I get for you?" she asked cheerily.

I glanced to the side to make sure we were in relative solitude. "I need to ask you a question."

Her eyebrows raised for a moment, like this wasn't standard operating procedure for a Starbucks employee. "Uh, sure. I guess."

Thinking I was going about this the wrong way, I changed tactics in mid-play. "I know this is going to sound like a soap opera cliché, but I just got out of the hospital yesterday and I have a weird kind of amnesia."

This time her eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. "Really?"

With a nod I continued. "The thing is that you look really familiar, and I know your name, but I don't know how I know you." It was sort of a lie, I knew her in the biblical sense, but I wasn’t going to tell her that at this point. "Do you know or did you know someone named Red?"

That took her off guard. She closed the display case she was working on and her face turned a light shade of pink. "If you're his girlfriend or something, it's over. We only saw each other the one time. He hasn't come around since."

I raised my hand in a calming gesture. "I'm serious. I'm not some jealous… I'm a lesbian. Not into guys, thanks. I really do have amnesia."

She looked over to her co-workers and then back at me, judging me for a moment. "Hold on a sec. I'll take a break and tell you what I know."

Pointing back toward Mom, I said, "I'm right over there."

She nodded and I returned to the table.

"What did she say?" asked Mom.

"She's taking a break." As an afterthought I asked Mom a favor. "Some of what I'm going to reveal is kind of personal. If you could save your questions until we get some privacy I'd appreciate it."

She looked at me over her cup, paused for a second and then nodded. That was about the time Jenny-of-the-biting-shoulder showed up and positioned a chair at the end of the table. A frozen coffee montage was set on the table and I was given the wary eye.

"Thanks for taking the time… I know this is kind of strange."

She nodded.

"What can you tell me about Red?"

Jenny eyed Mom for moment and then looked back at me. "How much do you know about what goes on…" Her posture shifted, uncomfortable with the topic. "After dark."

This time, I got uncomfortable. "Uh."

I suppose something in my eyes confirmed her suspicions. "Red saved my life. I was attacked and he took care of the problem."

Leaning back in my chair, I stared off at nothing in particular. "What was it… specifically."

Goosebumps rose on her upper arms. "If you don't know then I'm not sayin'."

"Gemma," Mom started.

I held up a finger to forestall her question and asked Jenny, "Was it pale? Smelled like rotten meat? Hungry?"

The cashier's eyes kind of glassed over for a second. "Yeah."

Images popped up in my head: pulling Jenny away from the thing's grasp and planting a boot in its face. That's how I… or rather Red acquired her carnal affection. "Did he give you a phone number, address, last name, anything?"

Jenny shook her head. "I asked but he said it was best that we didn't get involved, for my safety." At my frustration she inquired, "What's this have to do with you losing your memory?"

I twisted my coffee back and forth on the table. "Things he's done keep popping up in my head. If there's any answers to be had then he might know."

An expression dropped over her face, pity and reluctance. "Look, I'm not sayin' you'll find anything, but you might want to check out the Services section in the Houston Press." She stood and pushed her chair back under the table. "I gotta go."

~O~

The ride home was tense. Especially since I was intently perusing the classified ads in the back of Houston's main Alternative newspaper. It wasn't like the National Enquirer or anything. The Press was primarily geared toward the younger generation, maybe eighteen to thirty year olds. Club openings, gay community goings-on, artsy-fartsy stuff littered the contents. They were famous in the city for their personal ads which rivaled Crag's List in their debauchery, which I had skipped and mainly concentrated on the Services section as advised by Jenny-of-the-biting-shoulder.

"Are you going to explain what all that was about back there, Gemma?"

"Hmm?" I said, looking up from the paper.

"This Red fellow and how you knew about something that was pale, hungry, and stank of rotted meat."

"It was a ghoul."

"A ghoul."

I nodded, absentmindedly, while I continued searching through the ads. "A Zombie that's been brought back specifically to kill. If the person who brings it back loses control it attacks and eats him then goes on a rampage until it gets put down. Once it has a taste for flesh it transforms to a Ghoul."

Finally finding something worthwhile I had a small eureka moment. "Aha!"

"What?"

I read the ad for her. "Unnatural things happen? Meet something you can't explain? Need help?" and a phone number followed.

Absentmindedly, I reached for my cell that I kept in my coat pocket. It was then that I realized I wasn't wearing my coat, and I didn't have a cell phone. A growl rumbled up from my throat.

"What's wrong?" asked Mom.

Quashing my frustration was becoming harder and harder. I took the time to fold the paper up so that the notice I'd found would be still be visible. "Everything is off. Nothing's right."

"Sweetie, it'll get better."

I turned to her. "Will it?" I said, just short of snapping at her. Mom's mouth opened a little and I could see her uncertainty. "Just now, I wanted to reach into my coat pocket and grab my cell phone. I didn't think about doing it; it was just a habit born out of reflex."

"You don't have a cell."

"And I don't have a coat either, but I remember always wearing one, even in the summer."

Her eyes drifted to me and then returned to the road.

"Mom, ever since I woke up in the morgue, nothing's been right. It's like I'm someone else stuck in this body."

"Gemma, don't talk like that." She sounded nervous, like she'd seen it too and didn't want to admit the truth.

"Tell me I'm wrong then." I held up my hand and started ticking fingers off. "Red meat, coffee, memory, knowing people I shouldn't have any business knowing. Then there's the other side. I hate drugs. I had a cousin that O.D.'d when I was a kid..."

Mom snapped her head around and looked at me like I was crazy. "All of your cousins are perfectly fine."

I pointed at her. "There, see, another one. I remember..." Pushing myself, I brought up a face and the name was on the tip of my tongue. "Ca...Casey, Cathy, Catherine! That's it, Catherine Cox! She was my first cousin on my mother's side of the family. Ha!"

"Gemma, I don't have any nieces with the name Catherine. I don't have any nieces on my side of the family at all. I'm an only child."

Palming my face I looked out the side window. "Damn."

"Language."

I rolled my eyes.

The remainder of the trip home was spent by me trying to recall the rest of my extended family. Three additional boys on my mother's side and two girls on my father's. There's where things got a little dicey. The last names of my cousins on Father's side was Broom. It was originally Bruttenholm. My grandfather immigrated from Europe during the second World War and changed it to Broom to avoid...

Wait a minute.

He was twenty something when he immigrated and got married. Father was born in forty-seven and I was born in seventy-six. That meant I was thirty-four years old, not seventeen.

Red. Red Broom. What kind of parents name their kid Red Broom?

I shook my head. It wasn't Red Broom. It was Alfred Broom. That's my real name. Not Gemma Saunders.

I just had to convince Mom that I wasn't a lunatic.

"What in the world?"

Looking up from the ad once more I saw what had her in a quandary. There was a silver SUV with blacked-out windows sitting in our driveway. A really creepy feeling trickled down my spine.

"Mom, keep driving. Don't slow down."

She gave me a quick glance. "Do you know who owns that..."

"Dammit, Mom. Go!"

She hit the brakes instead. The creepy feel intensified, just as the last ray of sunshine dropped behind the horizon. I made a grab under my right arm but my revolver wasn't there.

"Aww crap."

TBC...