Time seemed to stand still as Brian continued to stare at the painting; nothing else in the world mattered at the moment. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that Justin had painted it; he had seen his partner's work so many times over the past few years he could have almost detected it wearing a blindfold. His artwork had an almost mythical, ethereal quality to it – swirling visions of passion, life experience, happiness, pain or hope, depending upon what Justin was going through at the time.

As he continued to gape at the painting, he noticed a signature in the bottom right hand corner – Jacob Martin. Jacob Martin? Was it possible he was somehow mistaken? He continued to stare at it for several minutes. No, he decided firmly. This is Justin's….He knew it. He felt it. But how? And why the other signature? What the hell was going on here?

"It's quite striking, isn't it?" he heard a baritone voice saying behind him from the doorway. Reluctantly tearing himself away from the artwork, he turned around to find Brady Coleman standing at the entrance, observing him.

"Yes," Brian replied distractedly, his mind still focused on the painting behind him, even though he was looking at the CEO. He tried hard to sound nonchalant and keep the emotion out of his voice as he asked, "Where did you get it?"

The older man walked into the room toward Brian before responding, "At a benefit for the local hospital my wife and I attended. Had to shell out quite a pretty penny, too…..some big shot cardiologist was battling it out with me to take it home for himself, but my wife was determined to come out on top. I knew better than to disappoint her," he confided in the other man, chuckling, "or I would have definitely been in the doghouse." He reached over to shake Brian's hand. "Good to see you again. I'm glad the top gun decided to come here to pitch his ad personally. I was beginning to think you were neglecting me."

Normally, Brian would have played right along with the client and schmoozed the hell out of him to win him over; however, this was not a normal situation. He turned back around to the painting and continued to stare at it, totally engrossed.

"Brian?" Coleman called. "I do have a tight schedule here. Can we get started?" he asked coolly, looking at his Rolex and growing a little impatient after the other man did not respond immediately. "Brian? Just what is going on here?" he asked authoritatively.

Brian finally turned around. "That's what I'd like to know," he pressed the other man, his eyes flashing in suspicion. "Where did you get this?"

"I told you, Brian," Coleman retorted, his irritation rapidly growing incrementally as precious time clicked by. Just what was wrong with this man? "I told you….my wife and I bought it at a benefit last night."

"LAST NIGHT? You bought it LAST NIGHT?" he repeated to himself in disbelief. What was going on?

"Just what the hell is wrong with you? Why do you care where I bought the painting?"

"Just answer the fucking question!" he demanded. "You bought it last night?"

"Are you deaf? Yes! I bought it last night! WHAT is the problem?" Coleman was beginning to think this other man was crazy; he had always had a lot of respect for Kinnetik and its president, but he was beginning now to seriously have doubts about the trust he had placed in the man's company.

Brian completely ignored the man's question; he had too many important ones to ask of his own. "This Jacob Martin…..what do you know about him?" he pressed, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. His mind drifted temporarily to the scene in his office Tuesday morning...Blake insisting he had seen Justin in front of his club on Saturday...

Brady huffed in extreme exasperation. Was this man not listening to anything he had to say? Sighing loudly, he said, "Not much. I just met him last night."

Brian walked closer to the other man; Coleman could feel the other man's breath on his face as he continued to interrogate him. "You met him?" He held his breath and his heart began to pound as he whispered, "What….what did he look like?"

"Brian….."the other man began, totally confused now as he noticed the ad executive becoming more agitated by the second.

"Tell me!" Brian demanded urgently, reaching over to firmly grasp the other man's upper arms in a vise. He was not letting this man out of his sight until he answered his questions.

"Brian," Coleman warned him. "If you don't release me now, I will call security. I don't know what the fuck has gotten into you, but I do not appreciate being manhandled! Now kindly let GO of me!"

Brian abruptly became aware of how tightly he was holding onto the other man, and finally released him. Frustration and pain were noticeable on his face as he now beseeched the CEO, "You don't understand how important this is. I can't explain it to you – hell, I can't explain it to myself yet – but please…..I'm actually begging you. Tell me what he looked like. Please," he repeated softly.

Coleman stared at him, trying to figure out what was going on. He didn't understand, but he couldn't deny the emotional torment plainly showing on Kinney's face and the pain in the man's eyes. Whatever the problem was, it was enough for the normally unflappable ad executive to turn flustered and almost desperate.

Deciding to acquiesce somewhat to the other man's passionate entreaty, he volunteered, "He…he was blond, I'd say early twenties….."

"Bright blue eyes, about 5'8", slender, with a smile that would light up a room?" Brian finished for him, whispering. He held his breath as he waited for the other man to answer, inwardly cursing at himself for not having a photo of Justin with him; it had merely been too painful lately to carry a constant reminder of what he had lost.

"Well, I'm not sure about the smile part, but the rest would fit," Coleman confirmed, as he noticed the other man closing his eyes and letting out a shaky breath. "Yeah," he decided, "I suppose that would be a pretty accurate description of him." He studied the gamut of emotions that seemed to flash across the other man's face. "Why? Do you know him?" he asked curiously.

Brian breathed in a large gulp of oxygen and let it out. "Yes," he whispered with tears in his eyes. "I think I do." He had no idea what was going on, but he did know one thing – he had to find this man – now.

"Where can I locate him?" he pressed the other man urgently. "Where?"

Coleman's eyebrows narrowed in puzzlement. Whatever the problem was, he knew he was not going to be conducting any business with the man today; Kinney was on some type of mission to speak to this artist for whatever reason. "Why do you need to know?" he asked him. He had been impressed with Jacob after meeting him last night, and did not want him to come to any more harm than he had already experienced; his wife couldn't tell him too many specifics due to patient confidentiality rules, but she HAD told him enough to know that he had sustained some type of traumatic injury that had affected his memory. He could not ascertain just what Kinney's motives were for wanting to meet Jacob and he did not want to be the cause for the young man to suffer any further harm. If he did, he was quite convinced his wife would never speak to him again.

Brian paused; just how much should he tell this other man? He had met Brady Coleman a few times before, mainly at advertising conventions, but he really didn't know the other man well at all. However, he had a distinct feeling that if he didn't at least tell him something about Justin, the man may very well shut himself up tighter than a clam and not divulge anything at all to him. He couldn't take that chance.

"He…He sounds a lot like my partner. My personal partner." Brian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Jus….Justin. Justin Taylor." It was the first time Brian had uttered Justin's name since the accident; now the rest of the words rushed out in a torrent of emotion and hope. "He…..he was in that train accident almost two weeks ago here in Harrisburg while on his way back home to Pittsburgh from New York. There wasn't supposed to be any survivors." He turned once more to gaze in wonder at the painting behind him. "But…..but this painting. Don't ask me how exactly, but somehow I know…my partner painted this." He turned back to the other man, the desperation back in his face. "Please…..Just tell me how I can contact this man. I have to see him. To find out for myself if I'm right."

Brady looked at the other man, stunned into shock. He searched his mind for the details he recalled about the young artist he had met last night and the patient that had endeared himself so quickly to his wife. When had he first been admitted to the hospital? He rapidly racked his brain to think. Yes. It was about two weeks ago, shortly after that horrible Amtrak accident just outside Harrisburg. Michelle had told him a couple had picked Jacob up by the side of the road and brought him into the hospital. She had also told him that the man had suffered a memory loss due to the injury he had sustained. Was it just conceivable enough that this could be the same man that Kinney was so eager to find? Was it possible there had somehow been a survivor of that terrible crash after all?

Coleman decided to do what he had done countless times before in his job; after all, that was what had largely been responsible for his success in such a relatively short time: he decided to trust his instincts. And as he looked at the pleading, desperate look in the other man's eyes, he made up his mind. "I don't know exactly where he lives," he told the other man. "But his roommate works with my wife at the hospital. I can probably reach him for you."

Brian's heart pounded in excitement. If he was right, and it was Justin, he couldn't understand how he could be alive, and more importantly, if he was, why he hadn't been in contact with him? But the most important thing at the moment was seeing him. "Can't you just give me the roommate's name and let me contact him?" he asked desperately, urgently.

Coleman hesitated briefly. He supposed there really wouldn't be much difference in him contacting Andrew or Brian doing it; ultimately, it would be up to Andrew, though, how much he wanted to tell the other man about Jacob. "Okay…I guess it doesn't make any difference. His name is Andrew Bradley, Dr. Andrew Bradley. He's an ER doctor at Harrisburg General Hospital downtown…." The man barely got the words out of his mouth before he saw Brian quickly turn around and rush out of the room, completely forgetting his storyboards and graphics for his ad campaign. Coleman turned to look up at his newest art acquisition thoughtfully. I hope I did the right thing here, Michelle, he thought, before turning to walk out of the room. He decided it might be best to call his wife and let her know that a slightly crazy, emotionally-charged man was about to come looking for her friend the doctor and her former patient.

Harrisburg General Hospital

"Doctor!" Andrew turned around as he heard the frantic call of his friend Michelle behind him as she rushed up to greet him. "Hey, Michelle," Andrew acknowledged her, smiling. "Are you here to gloat over your acquisition last night? I'm envious…I still say that painting's going to be worth a lot of money some day." He stopped smiling, however, as he noticed the woman's worried expression on her face. "What is it?" he asked, concerned. "Is something wrong?"

She noticed all the staff members bustling around the nearby nurses' station in the ICU ward. "Can we go somewhere privately and talk?" she asked softly. "It's important," she added.

Andrew stared at her puzzled. "Uh…..sure. Over there." He motioned to a patient counseling room nearby as he led her by the elbow into the room and closed the door. "What's up?" he inquired, as the two sat down in facing chairs.

"I just got a call from Brady at work," she advised him breathlessly. "It's about Jacob…"

"What about him?" Andrew asked, startled. "He's all right, isn't he?"

"Andrew…My husband had an appointment this morning with an advertising executive from Pittsburgh by the name of Brian Kinney…."

Andrew held his breath as the words came tumbling together. Jacob….Pittsburgh…..Brian. Could this be…..?

He managed to stammer out, "What about him?" except somehow he knew what she was about to say.

"Well, his secretary put Mr. Kinney in the conference room to wait for Brady….that's where he had decided to hang Jacob's painting," the woman explained. "When Brady got there, he saw Mr. Kinney staring closely at the picture. He claimed he knew who had painted it, but his name wasn't Jacob Martin. He said his name was Justin Taylor."

"But….how would he know that?" he persistently asked the other woman. He still refused to believe that this man could be the same Brian that his roommate and friend had been constantly dreaming about and drawing incessantly. "The painting isn't signed that way…..he signed it as Jacob Martin. This man would have no way of connecting that to this other person."

Michelle studied him intently, puzzled a little by her friend's negative reaction. "Well, Brady thinks the man genuinely might know who Jacob is; that's why he called me. He wanted me to pass along to you that he told this man that Jacob was rooming with you, and you would know how to reach him. He said after his told the man this, he left his office like a bat out of hell, no doubt coming here to see you. Said the man was on a mission and was not going to be deterred. He just thought you should know…..and be prepared for a lot of questions."

"Oh, and get this," she added animatedly," Mr. Kinney said that he was told his partner had been killed in that terrible train accident almost two weeks ago, the one where there wasn't supposed to be any survivors. Don't you see, Andrew? It all fits…..I mean, I have no idea how Jacob possibly survived that crash, but it all could make sense. He was found out on Rt. 55 near the side of the road, but the railroad tracks run parallel to the road there. I know it sounds crazy, but it could be possible, if somehow Jacob – or Justin – had survived the crash with a bad head wound. If he had lost his memory, he would have also lost the ability to tell us how he got there."

"Well, that doesn't mean the man knows what he's talking about," Andrew responded just a little too sharply. "It could just be wishful thinking."

Michelle looked at him with a start, puzzled. "Andrew…..This might be just what Jacob has been hoping for…a link to his memory and someone who can tell him who he is. You should be happy for him. Why do you almost sound resentful?"

The man fidgeted a little uncomfortably under her intent gaze. "I am happy for him," he insisted. "If this man knows what he's talking about. I just want to make sure before I get Jacob's hopes up, that's all."

Michelle narrowed her brows as an "aha" moment suddenly occurred to her. "Ah…..Now I get it."

"What?" was the somewhat defensive response.

"You're falling in love with him, aren't you?" she asked him softly. "You're jealous." Her face changed instantly from one of befuddlement to understanding sympathy. Ever since she had met the young, hard-working doctor several months ago, she had teased him about trying to find him a nice guy to settle down with (well at least, after he confided in her that she had been trying to fix him with the wrong type of date). Now, however, it was sadly apparent to her that just as soon as he had finally become smitten with the right kind of person, he had the extreme bad luck to fall in love with someone who was already in love with someone else. Of course.

Andrew considered lying to her and protesting that she had it all wrong; but he knew the perceptive nurse would see right through that. Finally, he whispered, "Is it that obvious?" as he placed his head in his hands and propped his elbows up on his knees in resignation.

Michelle smiled tenderly. "It is to me," she replied. "I don't think anyone else would notice," she assured him, "but I've seen the way you look at him when you're together. You've fallen hard for this one, Doctor."

Andrew sighed. "I've got perfect fucking timing, don't I?" he stated plaintively. "God…..What a fool I am. I had to go and pick the one person who can't possibly reciprocate."

"You never know," Michelle told him, as he looked at her in surprise. "I mean…..this Kinney apparently loves him, too. But Jacob – or Justin, or whoever he is – doesn't remember everything, including his life with this man. And he may not ever remember all of it, including his feelings for him. Don't count yourself out just yet."

Andrew shook his head, not willing to hope that she could be right. "I'm not going to interfere, Michelle. I care enough about him to want him to be happy. If this Kinney turns out to be right, Jacob deserves to find out how he feels about him – and deserves to try and hopefully get his memory back. I wouldn't want him, anyway, if I felt like I didn't win his heart fair and square." He stood up and stretched, trying to relax the suddenly tight, tense muscles in his shoulders. "Something tells me I'm about to be paged. I'd better be ready. At least your husband warned me first – it would have really been a shock if this man had just shown up out of the blue."

Michelle stood to join him, nodding. "Yeah, but just think what a shock Jacob's going to be in for. Andrew – you can't just spring this man on him unannounced."

Andrew twisted his face in thought. "No, I agree. Mr. Kinney and I are going to have to have a long talk before he just waltzes in to see Jacob." Just then, his pager went off. He and the nurse looked at each other knowingly. "I think we're about to have that talk now," he confided in her, as he reached to open the door and head down to the nurses' station. "Wish me luck."

Michelle watched as he walked away, silently knowing that however events unfolded in the next several hours, there was bound to be at least one man that would be left with a broken heart.