Harrisburg General Hospital – Early Evening

Justin slept fitfully on his hospital bed, his evening meal sitting untouched nearby. Since coming back from his CAT scan and MRI tests, he had found himself extremely tired. Having to lie utterly still for 45 minutes for each test was strangely exhausting. And since landing in the hospital earlier today, he hadn't really had much of an opportunity to actually sleep. Naturally, now that he finally had some much-needed time for it, his mind was racing so much he couldn't really sleep well. Despite still having no idea who he was or where he had even come from, his mind kept replaying an image of a dark-haired, handsome man over and over again. Somehow, he instinctively realized that he knew this man who was appearing so vividly in his dreams – intimately. Who he was, though, and WHERE he was remained a mystery. Just as they were about to kiss, he woke up, disappointed – sighing in frustration, he slowly opened his eyes to see that Dr. Bradley had returned to his room.

"Sorry – didn't mean to startle you," the other man said softly, smiling. He was again sitting next to his patient's bed in the same chair as before.

Justin shook his head. "You didn't," he assured him. "I was just having this weird dream and it woke me up, I guess."

The doctor looked at him with interest. "What sort of dream?" Perhaps he could glean some information about his patient's identity through what he had dreamt about.

"It looked like I was at someone's apartment, and there was this man…" He looked over at Dr. Bradley somewhat embarrassed. What if the man was homophobic? Well, Justin thought, that's HIS problem. "I think from what I dreamed about that he and I were in a relationship." Justin noted that the doctor didn't seem to find this unusual or distasteful; he merely gazed at him intently as if waiting for him to continue.

"Oh?" was all Dr. Bradley said. "How could you tell?" He forced his voice to sound impassive, but he found himself oddly upset that Jacob apparently was involved with another man prior to his accident. Why should that bother him? It certainly shouldn't have surprised him – you'd have to be blind not to notice how attractive this man was.

Justin averted his eyes as he awkwardly explained, "In my dream…..we were sitting on a couch….and we were about to kiss." He finally looked over shyly at the doctor. "That's when I woke up," he explained.

"But a good dream?" the doctor pressed, trying hard to sound nonchalant.

Justin smiled a little, trying to capture the feeling his dream had engendered. "Yeah, I suppose." He frowned slightly, and clenched his fists unknowingly, though, as he added, "It's just so damn frustrating. Just when I think that maybe I might be having some kind of breakthrough with my memory, I wake up. I still don't know who I am or who the other man was, either."

The doctor looked at him sympathetically. "Give it some time, Jacob. You were just brought in this morning, you know," he pointed out.

Justin twisted his face, a pout appearing on his lips. "I have a feeling that patience wasn't a virtue of mine, even when I had my memory, because I want to know who I am NOW."

The doctor grinned. This man is adorable. "Actually, you're probably right, because research has told us that despite someone losing their memory, their core characteristics remain the same. So if you're impatient now, chances are good you were impatient then, too." His patient smiled back at him then, his blue eyes peering at the doctor intently. Again, the resident found his insides inexplicably doing flip flops as the young man continued to listen intently to his comments.

He had to actually look away briefly to collect his thoughts before he could continue. "I DO have some news for you. About your tests this afternoon."

"What? Tell me," Justin demanded urgently.

Dr. Bradley smiled. "You ARE impatient, aren't you?" he lightly teased him. He knew this was a very serious issue, however, so his expression quickly became solemn. "I consulted with the hospital chief neurosurgeon, Dr. Benjamin. He's been working with traumatic brain injuries for over 20 years now, so I respect his opinion explicitly." The young doctor paused briefly before continuing. "He looked at both the CAT scan and MRI results and has determined that you sustained a contusion to the cerebrum part of your brain, which is the area that controls both your long- and short-term memory. The contusion is most likely the reason why you have been experiencing headache, dizziness, and lightheadedness at times. He also noted some fairly significant swelling in the front part of the cerebrum."

The doctor paused to look at Justin's forehead; he couldn't however, see what his colleague had told him about earlier because of the blond's hair hanging down covering the area in question.

"What?" Justin asked, concerned. He noticed the other man's reluctance to continue. "Tell me," he urged him.

The doctor hesitated briefly before he leaned in toward the blond. "My colleague noticed on the results that you had apparently experienced a prior injury to the same part of your head. May I?" he asked, tentatively reaching out his hand toward Justin.

Justin frowned; this didn't sound good at all to him. He licked his lips nervously. "Okay," he softly said, not quite sure what the doctor had in mind.

The older man slowly reached out to push the blond hair away from his patient's forehead to peer at the healing scar hidden underneath. Justin could feel the other man's warm breath on his face as he continued to peer at his discovery thoughtfully. "What?" he asked the older man softly.

The doctor marveled briefly at the softness of his patient's hair before his eyes glanced down at the crystal-blue orbs gazing back at him concerned. Their faces were so close together…..if he just moved his head a little lower…the doctor abruptly shrank back, almost as if his hand had been caught playing with fire. He sighed. That's exactly what I'm doing here….playing with fire. He took a calming breath before settling himself back into his chair to address Jacob.

"You have definitely had some type of injury prior to this recent one, and to the same part of your brain," he informed him. "That would account for the scar tissue seen on the results. It may also, unfortunately, impede your recovery somewhat."

Justin's eyes filled with tears of dread. In a voice barely above a whisper, he asked, "Does this mean I won't ever get my memory back?"

Dr. Bradley tried to smile at him encouragingly. "No, not necessarily," he assured him. "Dr. Benjamin feels that you could, and I emphasize the word could, regain some if not all of your memory as the swelling subsides. But that could take weeks or even months. The fact that you have not experienced the more severe symptoms, such as paralysis and seizures, is encouraging. But we still don't know a lot about how the brain functions, and each person's case is unique. There's really no way to tell how you will progress. At the risk of sounding like a worn-out cliché, we can only hope for the best and try to help you along in the meantime."

Justin closed his eyes in fear. Was this the way he would have to live for the rest of his life? Never knowing what happened until this morning? Living his life from this day forward? What about family, friends? What about the man he saw in his dream? Was he searching for him?

"How would you help me along?" he asked the doctor pointedly. He wanted to know where he came from and who he was; he refused to live like a clean slate with nothing written on it until today.

The doctor answered honestly. "Three things, mainly. Mental stimulation to try and possibly redirect some of the neuron pathways that were damaged in your injury. Possibly hypnosis to try and resurrect some of the memories that may be hidden deep in your subconscious. And the third thing is simply time. You need to allow time for your brain to recover and the swelling to go down."

"That third thing will no doubt test my patience quota," Justin grimaced. "Remember?" He winced at the odd use of that word. "I don't think I DO patience well."

The doctor smiled. "Well, you don't actually have much of a choice here, Jacob. You will need to be monitored fairly closely until your body has had time to heal. We need to make sure you do not suffer any further aftereffects from your injury. It's possible, for instance, that you could still experience seizures even days after the event."

Justin closed his eyes briefly in frustration before retorting, fire in his expression now. "Great. Are you telling me I have to stay in this fucking hospital for weeks or even months while I'm a virtual neurological guinea pig? Except for occasional twinges of headache and occasional dizziness, I don't feel that bad. What good is it going to do to keep me here while everyone waits to see if I'm ever going to get my memory back? After all, it's not like I even know whether I have medical insurance or not. I don't even know my fucking name! I can't stay here while I rack up thousands of dollars in medical expenses. And you can't make me stay here if I don't want to!" he retorted, crossing his arms like a stubborn child.

The doctor had to purse his lips to keep from smiling at the childish display. He had to admit – Jacob DID have a point. What WERE they going to do with him? He knew the hospital board would never permit a "John Doe" to remain indefinitely at the hospital. But he couldn't just discharge him in a few days and leave him to roam unprotected and pretty much destitute through downtown Harrisburg. He realized deep down that he was refusing to acknowledge the real reason behind his inspiration when he found himself saying rather impulsively, "You can stay with me temporarily."

Justin looked at him as if he had suddenly grown another head. "Stay with YOU? Are you kidding? You don't even know me – hell, I don't even know me! Why would you offer to let me stay with YOU? For all you know, I could be a serial killer or something."

The doctor DID smile now. "Somehow, I don't think you fit the proper profile of a serial killer." Good question, though, Andrew – just why WERE you offering to do this for a virtual stranger? Was it perhaps because he was a very attractive and personable stranger? In either case, he certainly knew he wasn't about to tell his patient that. "Look – I just lost a roommate who transferred to another state to take a different job, so I have the extra bedroom. And you will need someone familiar with your type of injury to watch for any side effects or exacerbation of your symptoms. I imagine you would rather stay in this type of environment rather than a drop-in shelter, which, to be honest, in your case might be a distinct possibility since you have nowhere else to go once you're discharged from the hospital. We can just try it out on a trial basis and see how it goes. If it doesn't work out, I'll try and help you look for some other type of suitable arrangement. If your condition does not deteriorate overnight, you can probably be released sometime tomorrow morning in my care to continue as an outpatient. What do you say?" he asked the other man, trying hard not to let his emotions show on his face.

Justin studied the other man, still incredulous and maybe just a little suspicious of his motives. Why would this man be willing to do that for him, a virtual stranger? And why did his offer to help somehow seem familiar to him in a way? Only, something told him it really didn't have anything to do with this particular man directly. Someone, somewhere, had offered him something similar. If only he could figure out what it was, and who it involved. One thing he DID know, though, was that he wanted out of this hospital….badly. And probably the only way he would be able to do it was if the hospital staff knew he would be tended to by one of their own. He still didn't understand, however, why this man was willing to help him. He somehow felt he could trust this man, though.

Making up his mind, he smiled slightly in gratitude as he answered honestly, "I still don't understand why you would be willing to do this. But I appreciate it. Somehow I know that I've always fucking hated hospitals. And I want out of here – no offense," he added hastily, as the other man nodded in understanding. "So if you're willing to take on a lost soul, I'd like to take you up on your offer." Before the doctor could say something, though, Justin cautioned him. "But I want to pay my way. As soon as I am able to work – do something – I WILL go out and get some type of job. I'm not sure what it will be – but I want to help pay my way while I stay with you. Fair enough?" he asked the other man.

"Fair enough," the doctor confirmed, his respect for the other man and his need for independence growing. Glancing at his watch quickly, he suddenly realized he had spent a great deal of time in this particular patient's room, so much so that he would have to hustle to finish the rest of his rounds in time. "I'd better get going," he said, as he somewhat reluctantly rose from his chair. "I have to go finish checking up on the rest of my patients." He turned briefly at Justin's door to notify him, "Unless you have some type of setback tonight – and I don't expect you to," he added, trying to reassure the other man. "I will check on you tomorrow morning. If you are still making satisfactory progress and your vitals are still good, I will recommend you be released by mid-day. I get off my next shift around noon, so I can drive you back to my apartment then."

Justin smiled gratefully; he knew he had a lot of stumbling blocks to overcome in the near future, but at least he could do it from the relative comfort of a normal environment, rather than this sterile, sparse room. "That sounds good." As the other man started to leave, he added, "Oh, and thanks, Dr. Bradley."

The other man smiled. "After you're discharged tomorrow, you won't be my patient any more – you'll be my roommate. Call me Andrew," he advised softly before leaving.