Later the Same Day – Harrisburg General Hospital

Justin groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. His head still throbbed a little, but the pain seemed to have thankfully lessened somewhat. "You're awake," he heard a female voice say, as his eyes began to focus on his surroundings. He noticed first the white walls and then the small table next to the bed he was lying in; as he turned his head, he observed a person with a stethoscope around her neck – a nurse, apparently. He was in a hospital? How did he get here? And just where was he?

The nurse, a middle-aged, brown-haired female wearing glasses, stared back at him and smiled. "How are you feeling?" she asked him, as she efficiently reached out to check his pulse. "I need to check your temperature, also," she requested, as she stuck a thermometer in his mouth for a few seconds to register his current reading. Shaking her head satisfactorily, she replied, "No fever, and your pulse has returned to normal. The name's Michelle, by the way," she informed him.

"Where am I?" He asked her.

"You're in Harrisburg General Hospital," she advised him, as she briefly checked his latest blood pressure reading on the monitor beside his bed. "We've been waiting for you to wake up since you were brought in."

"Brought in?" he asked her, puzzled. The last thing he could recall was falling to the ground beside the road he had been walking on earlier…..today? He wasn't even sure.

"Yes," the nurse verified. "Apparently a couple driving by at the time you fell on Rt. 55 stopped and helped bring you here to the hospital."

"When was that?" he asked, curious.

Michelle quickly glanced at her watch as she stated, "About four hours ago. In fact, the doctor should be in shortly to check on you again. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you're awake. In the meantime, I'd like to get some information from you. We can start with your name." She looked down at her clipboard as she waited for the young man's reply. When it wasn't immediately forthcoming, however, she looked up to see him with a pained expression on his pale face. "What is it?" she asked him. "Are you in pain?"

"No, it's not that," he answered. "I mean – my head is still throbbing some – but that's not it." She noticed him appearing embarrassed as he continued. "I…I don't know who I am," he finally said, rather helplessly.

She frowned. "You don't know?"

Justin shook his head as his eyes unexpectedly filled with tears of frustration. "No," he said softly. "The first thing I remember is waking up early this morning on some hill – I don't even know where that was," he admitted. "You mentioned Route 55?" At her nod of affirmation, he replied, "I don't know where that is," he said. I don't know my name, I don't know where I am, I don't know anything!" he cried.

"It's okay," she said hurriedly, trying to soothe the tormented young man. "It may just be a temporary situation. You DID mention your head was hurting, and when you were brought in, there was a pretty large lump on the side of your head in the front. You may have just suffered some type of traumatic blow to the head that has affected your memory. Hopefully it will return soon."

"But maybe it won't!" Justin said painfully. "How can you know?" His blue eyes closed in weariness, as a few tears escaped unbidden down his cheeks.

Michelle looked at him directly before replying truthfully, "We can't know, I'm afraid. We just have to run as many diagnostic tests as possible to try and find out. There's still a lot to the brain that science and medicine don't know. It's best that the doctor discuss that with you, though. Now that you're awake, we can run some more extensive tests to hopefully get to the bottom of your memory loss." She impulsively reached down and briefly grasped his shoulder before letting it go. "Don't worry about something you may not need to worry about," she encouraged him philosophically. She smiled again at him. "Maybe in the meantime, I'll just take the liberty of naming you myself. I always did hate the name John Doe." She was finally rewarded with a small smile from her patient.

"And just who do I look like to you?" he asked softly.

She studied him carefully. The blond hair, blue eyes and pale skin were very captivating. "Well, let's see now," she said thoughtfully, as the young man looked at her curiously. He reminded her of a friend of her son's who had similar features. After several seconds, she decided, "You look like a Jacob to me. Jacob…Martin."

He raised his eyebrows curiously. "I do, do I?" he said, a little amused now, despite his predicament.

"Yes," she said firmly. "Definitely. That's what I'm going to call you for the time being. Much better than John Doe. You most certainly don't look like that name at all. Too plain. Is that all right with you?" she asked tentatively.

Justin considered it for a few minutes. At least he could be called something until he could hopefully find out who he really was. It was certainly better than the alternative of "hey, you." He looked up at her and finally agreed, "Yeah, it's okay. Better to be called by something. But I don't plan on getting used to it – I want my own name back – and my own memories," he replied defiantly.

Michelle nodded. "I certainly understand. And that's good. Motivation is an important part of anyone's recovery. You just keep thinking that way…..Jacob," she urged him softly, smiling.

Justin smiled at her again, grateful for her encouragement as well as her honesty. "When did you say the doctor would be in? I have a lot of questions for him."

Michelle replied, "Any time now. He's due to make rounds right now. His name, by the way, is Dr. Bradley," she advised. She looked quickly at her watch. "If you don't need anything for the moment, I really need to go check on my other patients," she informed him, somewhat regretfully. The young man's plight, awkwardness, and distress had touched her deeply; this lost soul continued to remind her of her son's friend, who appeared to be about the same age as "Jacob." "I'll be back a little later to check on you," she assured him, nodding, as he turned and walked out of his room, praying that the doctor would be able to help him find out who he really was.

Pittsburgh – Same Day – Late Morning

"How is he?" Deb asked her son as he came back down to the living room just before noon.

"He's been better," she heard a shaky voice reply from the top of the steps. Brian slowly walked down behind Michael, his eyes red-rimmed and his hair tousled. Debbie thought the man had never looked more haggard in all the time she had known him. The biggest surprise was that for once, though, he wasn't trying to hide his feelings behind a show of bravado. As he slowly shuffled down to face her, her eyes filled with tears. Tears because of what all of them had lost, but most of all tears for what this man was going to go through. The deep pain was so obvious on his grief-stricken face. The eyes, which normally shone with such confidence and life, were listless and dull. No wonder, Debbie thought, because his life had just been taken away from him. She reached up to give him a fierce hug; after a few seconds, she felt him return the embrace, wrapping his long arms around her waist. Her head remained on his chest for a while before she felt him pull back slightly with a sigh.

As she turned to look up at the hazel eyes she knew so well, she was again struck by the difference in them; the spark had simply disappeared. He tried to smile at her reassuringly, but he couldn't quite accomplish it; as he pursed his lips tightly together, it looked more like an attempt to keep from crying.

"Oh, Honey," she murmured to him. "For once, I really don't know what to say. That's something different, isn't it?" she smirked self-deprecatingly. Turning more serious, she added, "There's really nothing that can be said to take your pain away. To take any of our pain away. We all loved him too, you know."

Brian bit his lip, trying hard to remain stoic. "I know," he whispered at last. "I…I just can't believe it, Deb. To have come so far – to be so close, to be able to plan a future together. Then to have it all fucking taken away. I just can't believe it," he repeated. "I don't want to believe it." He shook his head in incredulity. To Debbie, he appeared to be so totally lost. So unsure of what to do next. So unlike the Brian she had always known; to her that just proved how much Justin had changed him.

She grasped both of his arms firmly. "You know what you do? What we ALL need to do. You take one fucking step at a time. One hour at a time. Hell, one minute at a time, if that's what it takes. Then you put another step in front of you. And another one. And you fight like hell to go on. That's what Sunshine would want." She reached up to give him a quick kiss on his cheek; as she pulled back to gaze at him, she brushed back some errant hair from his forehead before gently wiping a tear away that had escaped from his eye.

Brian's hands clenched into fists in frustration. "I'm not sure I know how to do that," he finally whispered softly. "I can't just forget him, forget everything like it just fucking didn't happen."

"Of course not," Debbie answered firmly. "You never forget what Justin taught you, or what YOU taught him, or what you meant to each other. You were too important to him, and he loved you too much to see you give up. It's going to take time. I know that's a fucking cliché, but it's true. It WILL get better over time. When Vic died, I didn't think I could stand to see anything that reminded me of him. But over time, I learned to not only think about my memories with him, but actually smile when I thought about him and the things we did. Those were good memories, and they will be for you, too….one day, Honey," she assured him sympathetically. Only thing was, as much pain as she was in at the moment, she could only guess how much Brian was in. It may get better over time, but something told her it was going to be a very long time before Brian could think about Justin without their being pain and grief involved.

Brian looked at her sadly and nodded. "I hope you're right, Deb, because right now I feel like a fucking butcher knife is stuck in my chest. What I wouldn't give for some of Anita's finest shit right now."

"No," Michael interjected as he approached him from the kitchen after snatching a beer from the refrigerator. "That wouldn't solve anything, Brian, and you know it. It might dull the pain for a night, but nothing would be changed in the morning. Everything would still be the same," Michael said, then added softly, "Justin would still be gone."

Brian swallowed the large lump in his throat. He knew Michael and Deb were both right. How he wished he could take some E and wake up in the morning to find out all of this had been a huge mistake, or a fucking bad dream. But he knew it wasn't. He would know, too, in the morning when he reached across his bed for the slender, pale, warm body that always snuggled against his side after they made love, and find his empty, cold bed instead. He shivered at the thought of sleeping in his bed at the loft alone.

"Michael?" he asked tentatively.

"What?" Michael asked him softly.

"Could I…..would you mind if I slept over at your house tonight? That is, if you have room."

Michael smiled sadly. "Of course you can. Anytime. As long as you want. I'll go back with you to the loft so you can get some clothes, okay?"

Brian smiled gratefully; Michael really was a good friend to him. And he was definitely going to need him and all of his friends in the coming days. If not weeks, or probably more like months. He wasn't sure if he would ever get over the loss of his partner, the love of his life, quite possibly the only love of his life. How do you ever get over your soul mate?

"Come on. Let's go. I'll drive you over," Michael suggested, as he gently grasped Brian's arm and tenderly led him over to the door. As the two men walked out, Ben approached Deb. "He's really lost, isn't he?" he observed to her.

She nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and no matter what bullshit I just gave him, I'm not sure if he's ever going to get over this. If he does, it may take him a fucking lifetime. What we need is a miracle – and I'm afraid God is fresh out of those at the moment." She gave Ben a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before slowly turning toward the kitchen to pour her some more tea.