His memories, yes definitely. When he looked at his chest at night thinking of the heart attack that had apparently dropped him, he couldn't help but rationalize that it was a bad diagnosis. There was something fundamentally removed from him. He could recall his wedding date, but he couldn't recall where they had gone on a honeymoon. He could recall that he had been principal for years and yet had no exact number in his head but a vague impression of years going by and students passing from his guidance.

His power seemed a bit more of a canker sore, a point that his mind was continually drawn to as his tongue might. He had been somewhere important, doing something important for the entire world - not just this place - but the details of which were not there. He recalled Bogota, but never anything more than the raid about it except that his daughter had been part of it and he had been impressed with his friend's actions.

"Power can be regained if given the right position to work from," he murmured softly. "Change is needed, is it not? We, you and I, are the force of change, Rumlow. That can't be taken away."