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Lucas had no idea what caused his lapses in memory. At one point he had suspected a combination of narcolepsy and sleepwalking, but that was disproved by others' testaments to his efficiency on missions. He had come to accept it as a part of himself. It had its benefits, after all. He never had to deal with any of the dirty work yet was still able to enjoy the spoils. Even so, it somehow felt... wrong. So much of his life was missing. He was over forty years old but only had enough memories to account for twenty, and it seemed like he was losing more and more of his life.

In short, Lucas was worried.

Somewhere deep down, he had hoped that starting anew with Rocket would offer some kind of sanctuary from the problem that had plagued him since joining Galactic as a child. His conversation with Sam, though, reinforced what he became aware of during training: it wasn't an issue that would just magically vanish. Fortunately, Lucas wasn't beyond seeking help, and the fact that Rocket had a psychologist readily available to help with such matters made finding his answers easy. Lucas rapped his knuckles gently against the door to Isadora's office.

The door swung open and a young woman with short, teal hair stood on the other side. Damn, he was starting to feel a bit nervous about the whole thing... He returned the welcome with his friendliest smile, though, and entered at her behest, seating himself in one of the indicated chairs with his back arched and his elbows on his knees.

"So, uhh..." he rubbed at his neck awkwardly, unsure of what one of these appointments was supposed to entail and of what was expected of him as the patient. He became distracted momentarily by the large grass type. Impressive, that Meganium...

Lucas turned to the Meganium that had come to his side and reached down to pet its head, laughing a bit. "You're a personable one, aren't you, friend?" he said. It's temperament was ideal given its trainer's vocation. Lucas couldn't help but wonder which came first, the sweet Chikorita or the psychologist position?

Isadora's tea perfumed the air, but its soothing aroma fell just short of settling Lucas' nerves. The question itself was part of what was troubling him at the moment. Whenever he had shared his worries in the past, his confidants had regarded him as though he were crazy. Maybe he was crazy. There was certainly enough evidence pointing to that...

He laced his fingers together thoughtfully, "Ah, well..." One of the hands went through his hair, then back to its previous position. "I guess I've been having some problems remembering stuff." Understatement. "I mean, for a long time." Understatement number two. "Like, a long time..." Finally something verging on accurate.

"Aww, he's not bothering anyone," Lucas assured with a grin. He wasn't a huge fan of training pokemon, but he surely did enjoy meeting them. His expression shifted to match Isadora's tone when she spoke, however, and he thought on her question.

"I've got bits and pieces missing from as early as my childhood," he explained, "like my parents' names. I think the earliest I was distinctly aware of a gap was when I was about... twelve?" He clasped his hands together between his knees; dredging up the memory of an absence of memory was confusing enough to think about, never mind actually trying to do. "I was running, but I don't know why. I didn't know why at the time, either. All I was rightly aware of was the fact that I had to keep running." He had dreams about it sometimes, dreams of a younger self propelled across fields, through towns, and into forests by some unseen and previously unknown will. Dreams of collapsing in the light of a campfire only to be swallowed by the long shadows that fire cast...

"Less frequently now than before." He considered it more carefully. "Back then, it felt strange when I wasn't running. I'll dream about it once in a while now - maybe every few months? - but it seems like it's mostly subsided."

If it was generalities, Lucas could remember almost everything, "I used to go hunting with my father. Fishing and camping, too. He was real outdoors-y, and it rubbed off on me. We'd come back in the evening any my mom would make dinner with whatever we brought back with us." He had gone on a pokemon journey, too, although it had been a short one; Lucas simply had no affinity for the stuff.

"A face, huh..." Trying to imagine a face for his parents produced entirely different results. A face did come up, but it was anonymous in its features, expression contorted in pain and confusion, tears drawing dark paths down the sides of the cheeks, and mouth agape in a cry for help. "I, uh... No." Not a complete lie. It was not as though he could discern that face as belonging to his mother or father anyway.