Whole

Pairing: ArmeniaXFinland

Rating: T (Mentions of sex, a car accident, minor emotional trauma)

Category: Romace/Hurt and Comfort. It's very fluffy. :)

Head trauma is one Hell of a thief.

Silent, invisible; he slips into one's mind and steals out of it just as quickly. And yet, lurking in the shadows, he's always there. He always will be, ready to bring new frustration.

Alexianos Väinämöinen-Kirzigian had lived a charmed life before the crash. He was a talented researcher with a confident, though modest, disposition and a beautiful home in the hills of Glendale, California. He was twenty-nine years old, and his handsome face had not yet been scathed with scars.

How do I know this? I was- and still am- Tino Väinämoinen-Kirzigian.

…

I clearly remember the night it happened. He had called me on the phone just minutes before, as he was walking to his car for the drive home.

"Hi, jan," I could hear his relief to be coming home from over the line, "I'm leaving now, I promise. Did I wake you?"

"No, don't worry. You really shouldn't let your boss work you so hard. It's a quarter past midnight. Are you hungry?"

"Very! Do we have anything at home?"

"Yeah, I put some stir-fry in a Tupperware for you. It's waiting in the microwave. Drive carefully, okay?"

"I will- I had some coffee before leaving. I'll see you soon, love."

"I'll be waiting for you."

I set down the book that dangled from my free hand and walked downstairs in my slippers and robe. Rain surged against the roof fiercely, and a chill ran through my spine. I quickly forced myself to forget the fear, and headed into the kitchen to wait for Alexianos.

As my fingers lazily drummed against the wooden table and I watched the digital clock on our oven change by the minute, I thought of my husband. We had just been married the year before, though we had known each other for three, and an overwhelming urge to hug him, hold him, be with him struck me. I felt myself tremble, and stared at the phone anxiously. For some reason, I knew it would ring.

Not a minute later, it did.

"Hello," I breathed, hoping it was simply Alexianos to tell me he had stopped to fill up his tank. Really, truly hoping it wasn't-

"Mr. Väinämöinen-Kirzigian? The man on the phone sounded reluctant to speak. My stomach ached acutely, and for a moment, I stopped breathing.

"Yes?" I managed to ask, my head pounding. I was swept by the sensation of vertigo- it all felt like a dream. I already knew what he was going to say. I already knew that something had happened to Aleksi.

"There was a collision on Brand Street. A drunk driver crashed into a Mr. Alexianos Väinämöinen-Kirzigian's car. We assume he is your husband?"

My blood coursed with a terrible chill through my veins, though my mouth felt hot and dry. It took me a moment to remember how to speak.

"He is."

"Your husband is alive, but he isn't coherent. The paramedics have already arrived on the scene- one of the pedestrians called 911 and gave them your husband's license plate number so they could identify him. Upon helping him out of the car, the paramedics found his identification in his wallet. He vomited repeatedly as they brought him into the ambulance."

I didn't care about how they knew all this- I wanted it all to be a mistake. For the man not to be Alexianos. I wanted to swear and curse the driver that crashed into my jan. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I couldn't do any of these.

"Will Alexianos…will my husband live?"

"He will, though his head injury is serious. He's bleeding profusely from his temple and crown, and his nose is most likely broken. The paramedics are shocked that he's even conscious, though he may black out very soon. We had to ask one of our Armenian-speaking doctors to talk to him, as he understandably is having trouble with his English. This sometimes happens when bi-lingual people suffer from a concussion- they'll revert to their first language."

"Can I see him? He needs to stay awake, right?"

"Yes- he should be woken up every two to three hours. He will be going to the Glendale Memorial Hospital. It's an excellent one- one of the best in America. One of the staff members will be waiting for you in the lobby."

This didn't relieve me as much as the man had hoped, but I swallowed with difficulty and thanked him.

I couldn't even remember getting dressed, nor the drive over, nor the sight of the hospital as I entered it. I don't remember how long I waited in the ICU- my best guess is around two hours, though every second felt like a year. But clearly, vividly I remember being led up to Alexianos' hospital room. I remember seeing the red-stained bandages on his face, and the relief I felt in realizing that his eyes were unharmed. I remember recoiling at the smell of blood- blood that I knew had royalty in it, and was type A-positive- and the horror at seeing his normally glossy hair matted with crimson sweat. I remember curling my fingers in his as he slept, and thanking God for every time that I saw his stomach rise and fall, or felt the pulse in his wrist.

I remember him waking, and regarding me with curiosity as his beautiful, untouched eyes opened. They searched mine, and after a few deep breaths, he spoke up.

"Ov yek duk?" He stared at our touching hands, though he didn't withdraw his own.

"Alexianos…" I felt my voice quiver, and steadied myself. "Please speak English. I don't understand much Armenian."

He let my words sink in for a moment before nodding slowly. He swallowed, and then spoke again. His voice was pitchy and shook- it was so unlike the smooth tone I'd grown accustomed to.

"Who are… you?"

These words didn't even register within my mind. I realized that he could speak English. I smiled. I realized that he didn't remember his husband. My eyes filled with tears before I could stop them. I bowed my head, completely silent for a minute as my legs and wrist grew damp with the fluid. Alexianos' mouth puckered with worry.

"I-…I am sorry. Please, sir, do not cry."

I blew my nose and nodded, realizing that Alexianos' thumb was caressing the indentations on my palm.

"I am Tino."

He cocked his head to the side, eyes flashing with recognition. He beamed.

"Yes! I remember you!"

I grinned, shaking my head. "Oh, I'm so happy-"

"You are my pharmacist."

My smile fell.

"I was your pharmacist."

He raised an eyebrow and took his hand away from mine. "I do not remember having a new one…why are you here, anyway? I do not know you. You…does the doctor know you're here?"

"Yes," I answered honestly. His anxious expression was soothed. "Alexianos, do you know what just happened to you?"

"I was in a car crash- the Armenian doctor told me so. I have just been operated on, and my face itches." He spoke calmly, though I could sense he was frustrated and disoriented. I would be, too, if I'd just gotten hit by a drunk driver and a man I supposedly didn't know was holding my hand.

"You're right. But I think you're suffering from amnesia right now."

"Why do you think this?"

I sighed, and then held my hand next to his. "Look at our rings," I instructed him. He glanced at them for a moment, his eyes widening in realization. He looked up at me intently, shock written across what I could see of his face.

"My husband…" He shook his head slowly, "my husband, and I do not even know his last name. I do not even know mine, then." I could see that his state was still somewhat lucid- he wasn't sharp and alert, like he usually was. His English was uncharacteristically formal, and he seemed stressed.

"You are Alexianos Väinämöinen-Kirzigian."

"Väinämöinen-Kirzigian…" he repeated, his eyes painfully sad. "You have seen me naked," he mused. I couldn't help but smile- though the circumstances were awful, it was amusing to hear him say something so candid.

"I have. You're hot." He exhaled, relieved.

"I thought about you. I mean, I-…when I first saw you, I liked you. I thought you were very friendly. E-excuse me, I am so tired. I don't understand half of what I'm saying."

"Get some rest, jan. We'll catch up later."

He nodded lazily, his eyelids lowering as he fell back to sleep. I held his hand in mine again, and sat, stunned and worried and upset and relieved, until the doctor asked me to leave so he could introduce Alexianos to the therapist.

…

The first night back in our home was a great relief, but frustrating as well. After five days in the hospital, Alex had been able to bring his memory up to speed with most things. He knew everything about his job, his education, and his blood relatives. His jittery hands could still play guitar. He was able to sit up and walk slowly. His doctor had called him a "miracle."

But he remembered very few things of me. He didn't know our anniversary, or most of my interests. He didn't remember the picnics we shared in sun-lit parks or our honeymoon in Lake Tahoe or the times we sat in our living room and sang together. He didn't remember the lit candles or the shared showers or the feeling of skin-on-skin as we cuddled after making love.

At least he'd gotten his vernacular back. "Our house?" He cocked his head to the side as he gestured to the two-story home, covered in stone and ivy.

"Yep!" I replied, hoping that some exposure to our garden or the sheets in our bedroom would revive his memory.

"It's beautiful." He opened the gate for me and marveled at our fountain and the morning glories that dangled like blue crystals from emerald bushes.

"You designed it yourself." Daringly, I placed my hand on his shoulder. He smiled at me, and I unlocked our front door.

Once inside, I gave him a tour of the rooms- the kitchen where we'd baked and shared many meals; the living room where we'd played chess and cards; the bedroom where we'd spent countless nights whispering and touching and loving. I didn't mention these things, of course- and naturally, he didn't bring them up.

We lay in bed with one another for a long while, watching the sun descend under the hills of Los Angeles. He held my hand, observing my fingers as if they were those of an alien or some new, foreign creature. Neither of us spoke- he was very tired, and we were both unsure of what to say.

But, eventually even silence exhausted him. He turned to me, his ragged body falling limply into mine. His scarred face and swollen nose stunned me, but I didn't turn away. Instead, I touched the smooth skin above his eyelid and kissed it.

"You smell wonderful," he whispered with closed eyes, "and familiar. I've never known anyone else to smell of cedar. I never even knew what cedar smelled like…"

"We have a sauna in our backyard by the spa," I chuckled, "You love it. You told me it was the greatest invention on the planet, next to the barbecue."

He laughed. "That sounds like something I'd say. I like you. I wish I weren't the reason that you're sad."

"It's not your fault- don't feel bad. So, I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do, huh?"

"Yep. I want to know everything."

"Well, we had sex in the pool once-"

"Maybe start a little more broadly." He grinned, his bruised cheeks flushing.

"Well…"

…

"Good morning, Mr. Kirzigian," I greeted from the register. The man across from me, with his dark eyes and incredibly sexy smile, never failed to cheer me up when I saw him for his monthly Advair refill, or sometimes, for a Proventil inhaler.

"Good morning, Dr. Väinämöinen." Ah, there it was! That wonderful, wonderful smile that I waited to see every month.

He handed me his prescription, which I glanced at. "Just Advair, right?"

"You've got it."

"Okay. I'll be right back." I retrieved his medicine, and was pleased to find that his eyes were still on me when I turned around. I glanced behind him. There was nobody else in line, which meant that I could make small talk.

"I use this as well," I smiled at him, hoping that he wouldn't mind my stalling him. He didn't seem to care.

"Really? Yeah, it's been pretty effective. It really helps me with bike-riding. Do you do any sports?"

I nodded. "I swim quite a bit, but I also bike ride from time to time. I don't really know of any good trails, though…"

"There's a really nice one called River Bike Path…actually, I'm going riding there tomorrow. Uh, if you don't have any plans, would you want to come with me?" His expression looked hopeful, and I smiled at him to assuage any fears.

"I'd love to."

…

"You're going to fall!" I laughed as Alexianos wandered along the edge of the Americana's enormous fountain.

"Silly Tino- ninjas never fall!" He leaned backward dramatically and nearly lost his balance.

"You're the first Armenian ninja I've ever heard of." We chuckled, and he hoisted me onto the ledge to join him.

"Look at the lights," he whispered, his warm lips tickling my frozen ears. The two of us sat, watching the trees as they sparkled silver.

"This was a great idea," I closed my hand around his, "Thank you."

"The pleasure is mine," he answered, his voice unusually tender. He leaned in, lips so close to mine that I could taste his breath. He'd just had a mint.

"I love you," I breathed, feeling bold with my confession. He beamed, wrapping me in an enthusiastic hug.

Unfortunately, he'd underestimated his strength, and we fell backwards into the fountain.

…

"Do you, Alexianos Kirzigian, take Tino Väinämöinen to be your lawfully wedded husband, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

Alexianos advanced, his eyes shining and cheeks raised in joy as I slid a gold band on his finger. "I do."

"And do you, Tino Väinämöinen, take Alexianos Kirzigian to be your lawfully wedded husband, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

I leaned my forehead against Alex's, allowing him to take my hand in his and adorn me with my own ring.

"I do."

…

With our chests and noses touching and his hand curled around my elbow, I never wanted the moment to end. Chopin's Nocturne played in the background, but the music was only distantly heard. We swayed like masts in a breeze by the sea. Our hearts were full and beat loudly. We knew what was to come next, but we weren't any rush. All in due time…

…

Alex's fingers trailed my inner thigh, his focus directed on a singular intention. A sound, more instinctual than anything, left me as his hands shifted underneath my boxers. He blushed, looking down.

"You've already-" I cut him off with a kiss, deepening it instantly. His lips moved sweetly against mine for nearly a minute before we parted for air.

"My nose is in the way, isn't it?" He teased, his breathing labored. I rested my hands on the small of his exposed back, wanting more of his tanned skin pressed against me. His erection brushed against my stomach, and his need became painfully apparent.

"God, Alexianos…"

…

Lying in the stillness, our hearts beat quickly, making their rapid decline. Our skin was damp with sweat…and something else. Our hair was mussed, a combination of black and blond falling on one pillow, one body, one spirit.

"My love…" His voice swelled, and I realized that tears had formed in the corners of his eyes. "That was the way…we were never meant to be separate, were we?"

I placed his hand over my heart, and mine over his. "We will always be whole," I promised him. The darkness of the room, his face lit by a single candle; his beautiful, unclothed form- these were all so lovely that I couldn't help but cry, as well.

…

He fell asleep as I finished the last of my stories. I pulled the sheet over him, turning off the lamp next to us.

The next month passed in a blur. There were painful times- seeing his confusion when he couldn't remember me from a kiss or touch, though he tried to desperately. There were joyous ones, like when we conversed freely, and his eyes lit with excitement at every "new" similarity he found between us, or every with fact I told him about myself that struck him as interesting. His dizzy spells grew fewer and farther in between, and he had a significantly larger amount of energy. The therapist informed us that some memories may never be regained, but we were at peace. We were content to fall in love with one-another again.

It was difficult, though. Alexianos' mind had definitely changed from the concussion. He had moments of paranoia. When I didn't hear my phone ring after leaving it on silent for the day, I came home to an anxious husband that nervously lay on the couch, silent tears welling in the corners of his eyes. I hugged him, and promised that I would text him every day before leaving work. I still do so.

He'd feared that I'd gotten in an accident.

Drives were difficult, too. Four months after the concussion, we'd decided to drive to Santa Barbara for a weekend at the beach. The trip takes three hours by car. After about an hour and a half, his posture became rigid, and his face pale.

"Jan?" I didn't dare take my eyes off the road, afraid of worrying him further.

"I- I will sleep…" he closed his eyes, his teeth chattering.

I played a Chopin CD for the rest of the drive, and when he woke up, he wrapped me in a tight hug.

My husband still does not remember our honeymoon, or wedding, or any other important events in our relationship. But his memories are not entirely limited- every once in a while, he will surprise me with the mention of an old joke or a simple reminiscence. This brings both of us unspeakable joy.

Alexianos is different because of the accident. He sometimes has panic attacks or mood swings, and he has difficulty remembering small details without writing them down. But he is also protective of me- he is aware of just how fragile life is far better than most. His nose is also a different shape, due to the rhinoplasty he had done after breaking it. He has a small scar above his left eyebrow that has yet to fade.

Alexianos is the same as before. He still loves playing guitar in the living room and singing with me. He can still kick my butt at chess and lose miserably at rummy. And his kinetic memory is astounding. He will still massage my palm when we lay in bed; he will still rub his foot against my leg and touch me as delicately as he always had.

We have made new memories. We vacationed to Italy together last summer, and spent two weeks drinking strong espresso and gorging ourselves on pasta. He didn't even mind taking public transit.

We are like any other married couple. We argue- sometimes angrily. We once went an entire day without speaking to one another because of a misunderstanding. This is not because of Alexianos' head injury.

Alexianos does not work such insane hours anymore. He gets plenty of rest- eight hours a night- and rides his bike nearly everywhere within reasonable distance. We bathe in the sauna every night. He is still the master of the barbecue.

And some things naturally change. We've become close friends with another couple- a Croatian-Serbian duo of which both suffered concussions after an assault. I've gotten really into cooking. Alex secretly tapes the Kardashians and watches the episodes on his iPad.

Alex's favorite side effect of his concussion is the fact that it's given him the sex drive of a seventeen-year-old.

Most importantly, we have a new view of love: it isn't about dwelling on the past. Memories are nice, but nothing can match the importance of the present. Every smile or song or argument or tear has its own place in time, but at the end of the day, knowing that my love is always beside me is all that truly matters.

For richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, never to part. We will always be whole.

…

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