Brett Richards wouldn't know for sure, but he reckons that he would not be the kind of guy who would go see a shrink all that quickly or easily for anything that may come his way but if it helps him in his current situation then he would be willing to try anything once. Something else that he is not all so sure about was the question of whether or not Brett Richards is actually even his name at all. From his recent activities, it would seem that maybe it is.

On the door of an office to which Brett has just entered is the name of Doctor Frederick Jameson and that name on the door is followed by groups of letters to which Brett did not pay any attention too. He'd have no idea what they would stand for if he were to take the time to look at those letters The two men shake hands, and the doctor suggests to the man before him that he should take a seat.

'Thank you for seeing me so quickly doctor.'

'Not a problem, if there is anything I can do to help you I will.'

'So how does this work?' asks Brett.

'Well, we both just sit and chat and see where it takes us, you told me when we first made contacted that you had no memory prior to only just recently so why not start by telling me what you do remember from the beginning, along with whatever you may have noticed, as well as how you felt and so on.'

Brett briefly pauses then begins to tell of what he does remember.

It is cold and dark. The road I am on is a long and winding one. I don't know where I am, but this road seems vaguely familiar. The only light I have is that being given from the moon and the stars. It is a cool dry night, not a cloud to be seen in the sky well from what I can see of the sky anyway. The moon light reflects across the lake to my left and the water comes lapping up on to the road. This lake, if that is what it is, extends out as far as I can see and extends the length of the road I am on. A strong wind picks up, sweeping in from across the lake. A nearby sign reads 'this road is susceptible to flooding' but I can only read the sign when I am up close to it.

To my right there is a steep hill with trees and shrubbery. It is too dark to see how high the hill actually goes but it is high, too high and too steep to try climb. There is no sign of life anywhere. There is no traffic either anywhere near me or off in the distance. I don't know how I got here. In fact, I don't remember very much at all, and at this point that even includes my name. Who am I? Where am I? How did I get here? And what the hell is going on? I couldn't guess a response to any of these answers.

I am wearing a backpack. I take it off and look through it. Inside there is a flask containing a hot drink, coffee I think though I don't try it. There are also a couple of cold drinks, some sandwiches, fruit, and a tape recorder with a cassette inside. The accompanying earphones go on and I press play. The voice I subsequently hear is that of my own, I know this straight away but unfortunately like everything else I do not remember recording this tape.

The voice, my voice, tells me to make my way along the road in the direction going slightly uphill, keep going until I reach a diner called 'Abe's Diner', go in, sit at the counter, and order a coffee. Upon hearing this I search my pockets for cash, to see if I can pay for this coffee. Strangely enough the voice on the cassette continues by informing me not to worry about paying for the coffee. I didn't need the added confusion of wondering why I should go order coffee in some diner if I have a flask of it in my backpack. The recording comes to an end. I make sure that anything that came out of my bag goes right back inside it, I put it on my back, and then begin to make my way as the tape requested.

Almost two hours into walking along this long winding dark road, I finally reach Abe's Diner, a place which seems to be out on its own. There is nothing but road water and hill from where I came. I would have had no idea how long it would have been before I would see any other signs of life if I had passed right on by this diner.

Anyhow, I go in, sit on a stool at the counter and ask for a coffee just like what was asked of me by apparently ... me. The lady who greeted me as I sat, went to go fix me that drink; she is soon joined by a slightly older man up the far end, behind the counter. They look over towards me while also looking quite perplexed. As she makes her way back to me with the coffee the man heads into the kitchen.

'There you go dear' she says, and she moves away.

The cook comes out, stands next to the woman while glancing over at me. As the cook turns the woman says quietly to him 'the resemblance is uncanny'.

'Excuse me, what was that?' I ask referring to the comment she had just made.

'What was what?' she asks while not being all that far from me.

Being so tired I rub my hands over my yawning face before saying 'never mind'.

The woman goes about her business and only when she is no longer in my line of sight, I notice the white napkin she left next to my coffee has writing on it. It had the name of a hotel and directions on how to get to it. The older man behind the counter approaches and asks if everything is alright.

'Yeah' I reply as I search my jeans for some change, even though I know that I don't have any money.

'Coffee is on the house Brett' he says, and it took a moment or two for me to realize that there was a name in that sentence.

I am already up off my stood when I look at the man and ask him 'what did you call me?'

'Sorry?'

'Just a moment ago, when you told me that the coffee was on the house, you spoke a name.'

'You must be mistaken friend.'

I soon begin to make my way out of the diner while eyeing this man as he surely is me, making a feeble attempt not to. Before I leave, I say 'anyway, thank you for the coffee.'

'You're welcome.'

Standing outside the diner I can't help but think if those who work in that place know me somehow. I am sure that man called me Brett. I may be tired, but I am not deaf nor blind. Is Brett my name? I am completely confused at this stage as if I hadn't been up to that point and ever since. I felt as if I should go back in and confront those people, find out what they know. Maybe they don't or didn't know anything. My mind may just be thinking too much into things. Maybe I might just need to have a good night's sleep.

I have no injuries. Physically, as far as I can tell, there should be no reason why I cannot remember anything from before I found myself out on that road. I don't understand why I can't remember anything from before being on that road. It was not like I had been out cold and had just woken out there, so I had no idea of what to be thinking.

Twenty minutes is what it took me to get to the hotel with which the instructions on a napkin lead me to. Before I can say anything, I am greeted by a man who appears to work there.

'Welcome back Mister Richards' he says as he reaches for my right hand.

I shake his hand and without thinking too much into what is happening.

'I see you cut your hair' continues the man.

I notice that he is wearing a name badge which also says manager on it. The name on the badge is Steven. I don't know why but for some reason I play along as if I know who this Steven person is. He seems sure that he knows me. So, my name is Brett Richards? For this moment I will assume that it is. I tell Steven that I needed the haircut. He moves behind the reception desk and gets me a key card for one of the rooms and also hands me an envelope. I thank him and head up to this room.

I had not asked for a room though I did need some rest, no payment was asked for either. Do I have an account at this hotel or was something else going on? I certainly could not speculate on that. You may imagine my surprise when I discover that the envelope I had been handed, contained money, and a fair bit of money at that too. Maybe I had left this envelope for myself. I don't know. It was late so I head to bed and managed to fall asleep quite easily.

My eyes are open, but I cannot see a thing. I am surrounded by darkness, a pure darkness unlike what I had out on that road I found myself upon. I close my eyes, rub them, and open them again. When I do, I'm no longer surrounded by darkness. It is bright but my sight is blurred. My sight soon clears. ...

I am a child. Maybe nine years old, no I am ten. I am playing in the snow. There is another child playing too. I know this boy; we are playing together. This is a dream ... no ... it's a memory. The other boy, he is my younger brother. His name is ... his name ... I can't think, why can't I remember? Playing like brothers do, we tussle with each other. He falls and crashes headfirst into a wall. The snow around by where his head lays is turning red.

I wake up feeling quite sure that what I had just experienced was a memory, maybe one I'd rather not remember. I had a younger brother and apparently, he has been dead for quite some time. I really hope that it wasn't some kind of guilt that brought that memory back to me or even be why I am struggling to remember at all. Surely, it's not my fault that the boy, that my brother died.

'And this brings you up to this moment in time?' asks Doctor Jameson.

'Yes, not long after I awoke this morning, I told the manager that I wasn't quite feeling myself and asked him as to if there was someone I could talk to and he gave me your name.'

'Well for the moment, do not worry about the death of that boy, if and when you do find out that he is indeed your younger brother then we will deal with that at such a time when that becomes clear, for the moment how are you coping? Financially, physically, how are you feeling?' asks the doctor.

Thinking for a moment Brett answers 'well right now, I don't know how I am going to pay you. I could use some of the money in that envelope I mentioned but I cannot be sure as to if it actually belongs to me.'

'Again, don't worry about that, right now the main agenda is to get you the answers you need.'

'The hotel room I am in had apparently, so I am told, been booked, and paid for, for the next ten days anyway. I do not know by whom, not me anyway but then again, the way things are going ... maybe it was paid by me. I have the money from the envelope. It is enough to get through those ten days, but I'd rather not use it until I know more so I am also entering an amateur boxing contest this weekend. There is prize money on offer to the finalists. I have no idea if I am capable of getting to the final, but it is worth a go and I know of nothing else that I need to do or nowhere in particular I need to go.'

'Go for it, if you think it is worth a shot, and if you are still in one piece come Monday, I will meet with you again.'

'Alright, will do. Thank you for seeing me, Doctor.'

The two men stand and shake hands. The doctor wishes Brett luck as Brett leaves.

As Brett did leave, another man entered the doctor's office via an alternate entrance asking, 'what does he know?'

'Nothing, so it would seem.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, but he is beginning to remember, he remembers the death of your brother.'

Three days passed uneventfully, and the weekend came. Eight entrants all unknown to one another, as far as Brett is aware, gather for a boxing tournament taking place over two days. Four three-minute round quarter-final fights of three rounds each to be followed by two five round semi-final matches on the Saturday with a possible twelve round final taking place on the Sunday. Brett was up first. He is tall, strong, and well-built. Even though there were no weight restrictions or categories in the competition, Brett if that is indeed his name, would be considered a heavy weight.

The contest takes place in a rather large ballroom, and it has attracted quite a crowd. Apparently, this kind of thing has become and is somewhat of a regular occurrence, a regular event in the hotel and it always draws a crowd. There are changing rooms with separate areas for each contestant as well as an appropriate change of clothing provided. Brett is in no way nervous as he makes his way to the ring. He is indeed a big guy and in apparent good shape, definitely up for a challenge.

Brett's opponent was of equal physical stature, in appearance ... there is little to choose between them. First of three rounds began tentatively. Neither man willing to go on a quick attack. With only the three rounds, losing the first-round leaves either man at a severe disadvantage. Quarter-final and semi-final matches are determined on points with points awarded for hits scoring with the marked part of the gloves to the head or body above the waist.

At the end of round one it was all square at eight points each. Round two got a little more aggressive but was still level when it ended. Brett took an uppercut early in round three and that set him off. It took him a couple of seconds to gather himself after receiving that uppercut after which he then went on the rampage winning the round comfortably and therefore winning the fight. It seemed clear from that third round that maybe boxing was something Brett was and is proficient at.

Staying around to watch the rest of the first-round fights, which were also quarter-final matches, one man caught Brett's attention and that man was someone by the name of Shawn Hannigan, another large well-built heavyweight. Shawn won his first match with ease while paying particular to Brett before the bell rang starting his own fight, while also throwing him glances during and after the match as if to say 'I will be seeing you soon' for if these two men were to meet in competition, it would be in the final.

After a two-hour break, the five round semi-finals began, and once again Brett was first up and just as in his first fight Brett was slow to start. However, he did win the fight handily enough. His first match had been shorter but more competitive. The second semi-final was a one-way cruise right from the start and just as the moment the bell rang to bring the fifth round, and ultimately the fight itself, to an end Shawn Hannigan delivered a devastating punch to his opponent before telling Brett that he was next.

Brett remained composed; apparently, he does not have a temper, like he thought he might with how the first fight went. Hannigan's actions done little to elicit a response, if a response was or is to come then it will be held aside for the final. And so, a Saturday of boxing came to an end.

With time to rest before the final, Brett tried to do just that, rest, but that wasn't so easy. He dreamed about that boy falling in the snow again, only this time he wasn't watching as the boy fell, he was the boy that was falling. His dream was so vivid that he could actually feel the chill of the snow as he lay in it. He awoke in a cold sweat to the sight of the alarm clock in his room. Time was 8.45 am.

Brett got himself up and ready. He went for breakfast and was surprised about how calm he felt in the run up to this boxing final that was awaiting him. This calmness stayed with him right up to when he entered the ring and it continued to remain while his rather large Bruce Lee looking opponent entered the ring going all Ivan Drago on him. It actually made Brett smile to think of his opponent saying 'I will break you' in an Asian accent. So, with all that eludes him ... there is still a knowledge of who Ivan Drago is.

Once again just like his first two fight, Brett was able to keep round one at a slow pace, a pace that this Shawn Hannigan did not like. So, round two saw Shawn going all out and attacking strongly and confidently. Brett went into defence mode for the whole of that round. He was caught cleanly on a couple of occasions, each time bringing the thoughts and visions of being a young boy falling in the snow to his mind.

Something else Brett discovered about himself at the end of that second round was the fact that he actually did have a bit of a temper, he just needed the right provocation and having been caught those couple of times made him look forward to round three where he surprised everyone watching by completely dominating it. Shawn Hannigan had been so confident in the second round that it may have looked like he would have no problem going on to win the fight, not so and not now.

Rounds four and five were both vicious rounds. Both men catching the other with neither man falling or even backing off whatsoever. A pace is being fought that cannot last and it indeed does not last.

Even though this was a full length fight it didn't need more than the sixth round. Even though Brett had taken quite a pounding he had also given as good as he got. Whenever he was under pressure he kept coming back for more until he finally had enough. He went on the attack and kept it up cornering his opponent only relenting when Shawn could take no more. Brett won with a sixth-round stoppage. At the end of the fight someone in the crowd briefly caught his attention.

Brett now couldn't wait for his appointment with Doctor Jameson and of course that would only happen after a physical examination with another doctor came first. The all clear was given, time to go get some answers Upon entering the office of Doctor Jameson Brett straight away asked 'right, where is he?'

'Where is who Mister Richards?'

'You know who I am talking about.'

Brett feels as if he knows this Doctor, longer than he should. They had met before or perhaps that was some kind of memory. The doctor did know who Bret was referring too so he called out to reception area of his office to send 'him' in. The resemblance was uncanny. The man who walked into the office looked just like Brett, almost in every way with the exception that he was slightly taller, bearded and had long hair, a little older too. This man had been watching the boxing and Brett had taken notice. This boxing contest had made him feel as if he was being tested.

'What the hell is going on here?'

'Do not worry my brother' spoke this man.

'Brother?'

'In a way yes.'

'What do you mean, in a way?'

It was explained to Brett that things were not quite what he thought they actually may be. The man who had just walked into the office was and is the real Brett Richards. The boy who fell in Brett's dream was actually Brett's younger brother Ray. He had in fact died at that moment in time, and what was now standing before the longer haired Brett and Doctor Jameson was a clone created from DNA from the actual Brett, for Brett Richards, the real Brett Richards had been obsessed with finding a way to bring his brother back.

He had blamed himself for the death all those years ago. He financed the cloning, experimenting with a clone of himself first. Brett, the clone version had been incubated so an aging process could bring him to manhood quickly. The match was not exact but what had been done may bring answers, it may go some way in achieving the know how to accomplish the original goal. There is some transfer of memory too and this is disconcerting.

Brett, this new Brett, had been brought somewhat out of a stasis like state and his journey up to now was a test, one to access him physically and mentally. When he had been left in the middle of nowhere, it was almost like activating a computer for the first time only it was a real live person, a real live clone.

The voice on the cassette was that of the original and not of the clone though the two voices are identical. The man and woman back at the diner are the aunt and uncle of the original and are technically the clone's relatives too. Brett, the cloned version, was left shell shocked with so many questions he wanted answered but all that would come in time for he had come right out of darkness and into the light.

What could the future hold for him? Can there even be a future? Only time could answer that. As for the original, well maybe he is one step closer to duplicating his brother ...