So I just had an idea for a oneshot and I had to write it down before it drove me crazy.

I hope you like it. :)

Today I woke up and it was spring. New leaves unfurl on the trees outside my window. Daffodils bloom in the gardens. Lambs skip happily with their mothers in the meadow across the road. Baby birds stick their heads out of nests, squawking for mother bird to bring them a worm.

But I am inside. I don't remember it being spring. I don't remember the winter passing by. The last thing I knew was that the sun was beating down on me, and then I was falling, falling, falling…

And now this.

Let me start at the beginning.

I am –

Wait, that's right. I don't know who I am.

All I know is that I am inside, dressed in a white nightgown, sitting on a white chair in a white room, looking out a white window that is framed with white curtains. It is a white prison.

But suddenly I can see colour. Months have gone by, maybe years, in a grey-white blur. I don't remember them. Now though there is colour. Green leaves and pink blossoms, and beside the table by my bed is a blue envelope. A splotch of colour amidst the white. I get up slowly, cautiously, and walk to the table.

I pick up the envelope and sit back down. I slit the seal with my thumb nail and pull out a tape. Beside the bed there is a tape player. I open it and put the tape in, pressing 'play'. I lean back in my chair and a soft voice begins to speak. It is a man's voice and it sounds a familiar. I search through the dark recesses of my mind and try to work out how I know the voice.

Then I begin to listen to what the voice is saying:

Dear Mitchie, (that's your name, although you don't remember it),

You don't remember me, but I remember you. My name is Shane and once upon a time, you loved me and I loved you. I still love you. I always have and I always will.

We were going to get married in the church where we grew up, but then the accident happened. You don't remember that either, but you fell from a tree. I can still picture you in my mind – daring me to climb as high as you were. I laughed at you for your childishness, and refused to climb. Then you fell and life as both of us knew it, was over.

As I record this, you have been sitting by the window staring out at the world with blank eyes for three years now. You were 18 then, but you are 21 now. The doctors say that you will never recover. But I know you will.

They have shown you pictures, in the hope that your brain might pick up something, anything, and remember. You never did. They say that you cannot understand what they are saying. They say that your life is one blur of black and white. There are no shades of grey, no colour, no life. They say that you will never remember me and that you will never get better.

But I know that one day you will wake up. Something will happen to shake you out of the trance that you are living in. You will look out your window and you will see colour, you will see life, you will see a whole new world.

And when that day comes, I want you to know that I love you. I will never ever stop loving you. And I know that even if I have to wait until eternity comes, there will be a day when you will love me too.

Mitchie – remember, that's your name, and I am Shane – I am going to do everything I can to help you remember. People tell me that it's a waste of time. But I am going to search to the ends of the earth until I can find someone or something that will help you remember.

Your nurse, Macy, has suggested that I make this tape to help you remember. I can't be there all the time with you because you need special doctors and nurses and a special hospital that is far away from where we used to live.

But I visit you every week, and when I am there I talk to you. I tell you things about our past, hoping, praying that something I say will trigger a memory in your mind. But because I can't be there all the time, this tape will remind you of my voice when I'm not there.

And if you are listening to this, then I know that somehow, you have remembered something and that's a start. The world might not yet be filled with colour, but it's getting there.

Now I want you to do something for me. Every morning when you wake up I want you to play this tape to yourself. Macy will help you. Maybe, just maybe when you listen to it, you'll remember me.

Please Mitchie, I'm begging you. Remember me.

But even if you can't remember me or the way you used to love me in the past, back when the world was young and happy, back when life was golden, I want you to know that I love you now. I love you still.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Shane

I switch the CD off and sit back in my seat. Tears have come to my eyes. So I am Mitchie, the girl in the letter. I didn't know that. My eyes overflow with tears and I start to cry.

I want to remember.

I want to know who Shane is.

I sob louder and I hear someone come into the room. They too are dressed in white. Then there is shouting, "Doctor, doctor come quick!"

Then there is loud noises and pounding footsteps. I shut their voices out and stare out the window again.

From somewhere far away I can hear someone talking fast, excitedly. "She listened to the tape and she was crying, really, she was."

Then there is a deeper, soothing voice, "Macy, Macy, you must have imagined it. Mitchie has never shown any emotion in the three years that she has been in this hospital. And look at her now. She looks just like she always does."

The voice fades away, but I can tell that there is still someone in the room with me. A young woman kneels in front of me, her hands on my knees. I stare blankly at her, not registering that she is about to cry.

"I know you listened to the tape. And you cried. I know you did. And I know that you're going to get better." Her eyes brim over with tears and I look away, out the window. I don't understand what she's saying. I have locked myself back in my white world.

_______________

That night I begin to remember. Not proper memories, but snatches of things.

My momma calling me downstairs to breakfast.

My father picking me up and carrying me.

Picking out an outfit for a school dance.

Sitting at my window in my childhood home.

A dark haired boy, kneeling in front of me holding a ring in his hands.

And through all the memories there are snatches of a song. Somehow I know that the song is important. The song is the key to remembering.

I can feel warmth on my face now. There is the sound of someone bustling into the room. "Good morning Mitchie!" I'm not really listening. I try to remember who Mitchie is again.

As the sound moves about the room, I begin to surface from the dream. I try to hold onto the song. The song is so important, it's so important, it's…

Gone.

I open my eyes and I am back inside the white room. I get up out of bed and a young woman comes over to me. "Good morning Mitchie." I try to focus on what she's saying. "I'm Macy. You're in hospital and I'm a nurse. I'm helping you get better."

"I don't remember."

"I know you don't. That's what you say every morning."

"Really?" I walk over to the window and I stare out. I don't remember Macy. I don't remember anything. All I know is that once again I can see in colour.

I point outside. "The grass is green isn't it? And the sky is blue?"

"Yes," she smiles encouragingly. "Yes Mitchie, it is!" She smiles again, but I don't return the friendly gesture. I don't remember how.

I remember though that there is something I need to remember. Some fragment of a dream. Or a dream of a dream.

And I know that if I could only remember that, then maybe I could remember everything.

I sit down again, and the woman – what was her name again? – picks up the tape and puts it into the tape player.

"May I listen to it?" I ask.

"Of course." She presses 'play' and then leaves the room quietly. I listen to the words, the soft voice, the reassurances that someone, Shane – whoever he is – loves Mitchie.

That's me, I keep reminding myself. I'm Mitchie. But then I start thinking about something else, and I forget that's who I am.

______________

The days pass. Every night I dream. Every night I remember more. And every night there are snatches of a song that is gone when I wake up.

One morning I wake up and there is a dark haired man sitting beside my bed. I am frightened. Who could it be? How dare someone come into my room? I start to scream and the nurse comes running. Macy. I remember her name now. She is my friend.

The man stands up and talks in a hushed voice to the nurse. I can see his face is sad, but I am too frightened of him to wonder why. The man leaves and Macy comes and sits on my bed. She picks up my hand softly, "Mitchie."

"Mitchie?" I am confused. "Who's Mitchie?"

She pats my hand, "You are. Remember."

I sit up. I do remember. "Yes," I say slowly. "I am Mitchie. And you are Macy."

She looks delighted, "Yes! I am Macy!"

"And Mitchie, that was Shane."

"Shane?"

"From the tape." She can see that I am confused again. "Remember the tape Mitchie? You listen to it every morning."

Macy helps me to get out of bed and I sit in my chair by the window. She wraps a white blanket around my thin shoulders and then kneels down in front of me. I look at her, but it is not the blank faced stare I used to give. Now I understand a little of what it is going on. Macy's face is sad.

I pat her hand childishly. "Don't cry Macy, don't cry."

She looks up at me and her tears spill over. "Try hard Mitchie. Try to remember him."

I am confused, but I nod anyway. I want her to be happy.

Macy stands up and presses play. I am happy listening to the voice on the tape. It is soothing. Just before the tape clicks off though something nags me.

Shane… Shane… Shane…

The name goes round and round in my head. Then there is Macy's voice too, echoing in my mind. Try to remember him. Try to remember him.

I frown concentrating. There is something else I am trying to remember.

The dream.

But I can't remember it and eventually I shake my head, giving up. I get up and walk out of the room.

Then I am standing in the hallway and there is the sound of music. First, the hesitant plucking of notes on a guitar. Then a tune.

I stand up straighter, straining my ears to hear. The tune sounds familiar. I begin to walk in the direction of the music.

As I get closer and the music gets louder, things start to flash across my mind. Lights… colours… patterns… pictures… faces…

Shane!

I pick up the hem of my nightgown and begin to run down the hall.

Shane! Shane! Shane!

That's him. That's the song. He's the dream I have had every night since I woke up and listened to his tape and saw colour for the first time in three years.

Now thoughts are screaming through my brain. I can remember him. I can remember everything.

Tears are streaming down my face as I round the corner into the guest waiting area. There is a lone figure sitting in the corner playing a guitar. His dark hair flops over his forehead, so I can't see his eyes, but I can see the tears that are trailing down his face.

"Shane!" the word bursts out of my mouth and I see him glance up sharply. He stands up, shock evident on his face.

I run towards him. "I remember! I remember!"

The shock disappears from his face and he laughs and runs to meet me. He picks me up and spins me around and around, my nightgown flying out behind me. In his arms, looking up at his beautiful face, I laugh for the first time in three years. Shane is half laughing, half crying. Both our voices are choked with tears.

Shane holds me close to him, "I knew you would. I never gave up. I love you far too much to let you forget me Mitchie."

I look up at him, "I love you too. It was the song. The song was the key. I remember you. I remember everything. I love you!" I know I'm babbling, but I don't care.

Shane picks me up and spins me around again. Our tears are mixed together. I don't know whether I'm happy or sad, laughing or crying.

All I know is that I remember.

What did you think?

Let me know. :)