Chapter 2

January 9th, 1999

Mount Sinai Hospital

Scott could feel there was something wrong, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The doctor was staring at him as if he grew another head. Jean had a look of dismay on her face. What was the matter with everyone? He figured he might as well find out, so he asked, "Is something wrong?"

Jean, the doctor, and the nurse were speechless for several seconds. Scott quickly wracked his brain thinking back to what he said. He was beginning to worry, and his headache seemed to intensify behind his eyes. He looked at Jean and noticed something different about her. He'd never seen her wear that particular outfit before. Her hair was also slightly shorter and the shade of red seemed darker.

What was going on? He wished his head weren't pounding. Perhaps then, he could better assess what in the world was happening. Finally, the doctor broke the silence. "Mr. Summers, would you excuse us for a moment?" The good doctor made a motion for Jean and the nurse to follow him out the room.

That annoyed Scott somewhat. He knew they were talking about him. Scott tried assessing the situation logically. He was in a hospital. He was definitely injured; what with the pounding headache, the bruised ribs as well as the back pain… He didn't remember getting hurt or being brought to the hospital.

Was he hurt during a mission? Was it a danger room session? Alright, so he had some gaps in his memory. But it wasn't unheard of for injured patients to not remember events that caused their injury. But then why was the doctor looking so concerned? And why was Jean the only teammate in the hospital with him?

And what was with all the endearments she'd thrown his way upon him waking up? Honey? Sweetheart? She'd even held his hand to her cheek. She had tears brimming in her eyes as if she were dismayed at seeing him hurt. They hadn't exactly been close the last few months.

She'd gone back to her modelling part time and they'd drifted more and more apart since. He had to admit that a large part of it was because he'd been too chicken to tell her how he truly felt about her. And so, he did the next best thing he could think of; he kept his distance.

Scott figured with him being so weak and his headache being so intense, he really had no other option than to wait for the doctor to return. He hoped he didn't have to stay in the hospital any longer than he had to. He hated hospitals and he hated being poked and prodded. But most of all, he hated having to explain his ruby quartz glasses to people. It was going to be a long day.

Meanwhile

"Mrs. Summers, let's not assume the worst now," Doctor Graham started. But Jean couldn't help the feeling of panic in her chest.

"My husband thinks it's 1989!" Jean cried.

"He may just be disoriented. It could pass in just a few minutes or just a few hours-"

"And if it doesn't?" Jean interrupted.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. For now, please don't tell him anything. Allow him to assume whatever he wants, but do not correct him. I would like to perform the Galveston Orientation and Amnesia Test on him immediately. Then we'll decide where to go from there," Doctor Graham said.

"Alright then…" Jean said, reluctantly.

"Perhaps you should go home and see your children, Mrs. Summers. I would prefer that your husband didn't have too much outside contact until I've performed the tests on him. Give me several hours. Come back tonight. He'll be fine in the meantime, I promise," Doctor Graham said, giving Jean a reassuring smile.

"Okay, I'll be back tonight then, around 9pm, if that's alright?" Jean answered.

"That'll be perfect," Doctor Graham said as he walked away.

Jean was grateful to Professor Xavier for covering the expenses for Scott's private room at the hospital. Jean had the freedom of coming in or out whenever she wanted. She didn't have to worry about visiting hours.

Jean was still beyond worried for Scott and the fact that he seemingly suffered from retrograde amnesia. But he at least seemed coherent otherwise. Jean also needed to change and freshen up. She could only imagine what she looked like after spending the night in an uncomfortable chair next to Scott's hospital bed. But most of all, she wanted to see her children and to hold them in her arms.

The Mansion

"I'm relieved to hear Scott's finally out of his coma," Ororo said.

"But he also seems to be missing the last ten years of his life!" Raven added.

"I suppose it's better than the alternative, at least in this case, there's hope he could regain his memories," Peter said.

"Perhaps when his brain injury heals, his memory will return to him naturally," Hank suggested.

"Jean, is it not possible for you to just telepathically make Scott remember all that he's forgotten?" Kurt asked in his thick German accent.

"I've strongly considered that, Kurt-" Jean started.

"But she shouldn't," the professor said. "Scott's amnesia isn't caused by a telepath tampering with his mind. It's not even caused by Scott himself, as some patients tend to block their own memories if it's traumatic enough. No, it's happening because he has a physical injury to his brain. If Jean or I were to put that must stress on his mind and body in forcing him to remember, it could lead to a brain hemorrhage."

"My God! A stroke?" Hank asked.

"Yes, it's one of the risks," Jean said, sadly. "And I won't risk losing Scott."

"So, we'll wait and hope his body can heal itself?" Ororo asked.

"It's all we have for now," Jean said. "I'm just going to help Ororo put the kids down to sleep tonight, then I'm going back to the hospital. By then, Scott will have finished the Galveston Test and we'll know more the extent and severity of his amnesia."

"Jean, I would also recommend you don't make an attempt to re-establish your psychic rapport with Scott until he regains his memories. We don't know the damage it may cause," Professor Xavier warned.

"I understand, Professor," Jean answered, resignedly.

Meanwhile

"So far, so good, Mr. Summers. Now tell me, where do you live?"

"1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center, Westchester County, New York."

"Who do you live with?" the doctor asked, continuing to jot notes.

"My colleagues as well as the students there," Scott answered.

"Where are you now?"

"Mount Sinai Hospital… in New York."

"Good, good. When were you admitted to this hospital?"

"I… I'm not sure," Scott hated to admit.

"Do you know how you got here?"

"I assume by ambulance?" Scott said.

"You assume, or you remember?"

"I assume."

"What is the first event you can remember after your injury?"

"I don't know… waking up here, I guess."

"Can you recall the details of your accident?"

"I don't remember the accident. Until you mentioned it, I didn't even know if it had been an accident."

"Can you describe the last memory you have before waking up here in the hospital?"

"I already told you, Doc… I got back from a walk. I went up to my bedroom, played some video games to unwind, then I went to sleep," Scott said, trying not to sound impatient as he knew the kind doctor was only doing his job.

"Are you married, Mr. Summers?"

Scott scoffed. "I'm a little too young for that don't you think, Doc? Besides, even if I wasn't too young, the only person I'd want to marry is out of my league."

"Hmm…" Scott noticed the doctor write something lengthy in his notes. He tried reading what it was, but the doctor's handwriting was chicken scratch. "How old are you, Mr. Summers?"

"Almost twenty-two."

"I see…"

The doctor proceeded to jot down a bunch more notes. After he finished with that, he got up and took a box from the corner of the room and brought it to Scott. He pulled out a Rubik's Cube and presented it to him.

"Do you know how to solve one of these, Mr. Summers?" Doctor Graham asked.

"I can't say I do. You'd need to know algorithms to solve that and I've never bothered learning them," Scott said.

"Well, you're about to learn them now," the doctor said.

"Why?" Scott asked.

"I need to know if your ability to learn and retain new information has been compromised by your injury," Doctor Graham answered.

"I'd really much rather you tell me what happened to me and fill in the gaps of my memories," Scott said, a tad impatiently.

"Well, son, see there's the problem… I wouldn't call them 'gaps', I'd call them 'canyons'," Doctor Graham said.

Scott only raised his right eyebrow, wanting the doctor to add more. But to his disappointment, the doctor went right back to the damn Rubik's Cube. After spending the next two hours learning the damn puzzle, Scott was beat. His headache was almost unbearable and all he wanted to do was go home.

All he wanted was for the damn doctor to tell him what was wrong with him and the extent of his injuries. He didn't think it was all that serious anyway, aside from the fact he couldn't remember the accident. His ribs were sore, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. He was sure his headache wasn't anything a few Tylenols wouldn't fix. And as for his sore back, well, that's what Rub-A535 was for!

"Doctor, I appreciate everything you're trying to do for me… I really do. But I'm tired. I've solved your cube. I've proven I can learn new information. I think it's only fair that you be straight with me and tell me what happened to me," Scott said, handing Doctor Graham the solved cube.

Before the doctor could answer, a nurse entered the room and whispered something in the doctor's ear. He nodded a couple of times then turned to Scott. "Hold that thought, Mr. Summers. I'll be right back."

Outside Scott's hospital room

"How is he, Doctor Graham?" Jean asked, eager to get an update on her husband's condition.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first, Mrs. Summers?"

"Umm… the bad news, I guess?" Jean answered, hesitantly.

"The bad news is that your husband still believes it's 1989. I asked him his age and he told me he was almost twenty-two. I had hoped earlier today that he was just disoriented when he first woke up, but unfortunately, it doesn't seem to be the case. I'm afraid he scored a 63 on the Galveston test," Doctor Graham said, giving Jean a very sympathetic look.

Jean was speechless. She felt like her world was falling apart around her. "Do you think it's permanent, Doctor Graham?"

"I can't say at this stage."

"And what's the good news?" Jean asked, needing to hear something good, something that would give her hope.

"The good news is that aside from losing the last ten years of his memories, there doesn't seem to be any other cognitive impairments. He easily learned to solve a Rubik's Cube. He was able to retain the new information he learned. His motor skills are in tact as well. The only reason he scored so low on the Galveston test was because he got the one question wrong that was worth the most; the year."

"That's definitely good news, Doctor. You can't imagine my relief that he seems okay otherwise," Jean said, releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"He's been asking me over and over again to tell him what happened. He still doesn't know the extent of his memory loss," Doctor Graham said.

"How much can we tell him?" Jean asked.

"I strongly recommend only telling him how much time has passed. We can tell him about the accident that's taken the last ten years from his memories. However, I want him to try to remember the rest on his own. My hope is that once he realizes that ten years has elapsed since his most recent memory, that his brain will close the gap on its own."

Jean couldn't hide her disappointment. "So, he won't know about us? Our marriage… our children?"

"I'm trying to avoid putting anymore stress on his badly injured brain than necessary. Also, if we were to tell him of his past, he'll feel extra pressure to remember only certain memories he deems important at the expense of all the rest, instead of letting them all come naturally to him. If he were to learn he had a young family for example, then he would most likely obsess over those memories specifically, probably hindering his memories from returning rather than aiding them."

"I understand," Jean said, dejectedly.

"What was your relationship like with your husband back in 1989, Mrs. Summers?" Doctor Graham asked.

"1989 was probably the worst year for us since we met back in 1983. We drifted as friends and our communication left a lot to be desired," Jean said, sighing.

"I see… But he did know you then… And I suggest he have a familiar face in the room when I break the news to him," Doctor Graham said.

Inside Scott's hospital room

Hold that thought. Ha! It had been almost twenty minutes since the doctor left. How long was he supposed to hold his thoughts? The entire day had been an exercise in patience for Scott. He couldn't remember a time when he had been more frustrated.

Suddenly, the door to his hospital room opened and in walked Doctor Graham and Jean, the latter being a sight for sore eyes. Scott smiled politely at the two.

"Hey Jean… you umm… didn't have to come back for me. I know with juggling modelling and teaching you're really tired by this hour."

Jean just gave Scott a sad smile and said, "There's nowhere else I'd rather be, hon… er… Scott."

Sheesh. His accident must have been really bad if Jean was still giving him endearments. Well, it was nice to know Jean cared for him, even if it wasn't the way he'd have preferred. That old saying 'beggars can't be choosers' quickly popped into Scott's head, but then he shoved that thought aside.

Scott turned to look at the doctor and asked, "So Doc… You gonna fill me in on what happened to me, or are you going to make me solve a 4x4 Rubik's Cube now?"

Doctor Graham just chuckled. "No, no more cubes, Scott. But I'm afraid I'm about to give you the biggest puzzle you've probably ever had to solve."

"Well gee, Doc… Don't keep me in suspense now," Scott said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

"Son, you're here now because you were in a very serious motorcycle accident just over twenty-four hours ago," Doctor Graham started.

"I see," Scott said, nodding his head in understanding. "That would definitely explain the headache and overall soreness. I'm surprised I have no broken bones."

"There's more, Scott," Jean said, taking his hand in hers. Scott figured he could get used to this new affectionate Jean.

"Yes, Mr. Summers… I'm afraid there's more. And you should probably brace yourself for this next bit of news…"

"I'm on tenterhooks, Doc," Scott said, aiming for some levity.

But Doctor Graham stayed serious. "It's not 1989, Mr. Summers."

"Huh?" Scott asked, not sure he heard the good doctor correctly.

"It's not 1989, Mr. Summers… it hasn't been in ten years," Doctor Graham said, ever so calmly.

Scott felt Jean hold his hand just a little tighter. Scott felt a tightening in his chest. He felt his hands grow clammy and cold. He couldn't believe it. Are they telling him he's misplaced the last ten years of his life?!

"No… no… that can't be." Scott felt a sense of hysteria bubbling up from within him.

"Scott, breathe… it's okay…" Jean said, rubbing one hand over his back.

"This is… some kind… of joke…" Scott tried saying, in between gulps of breaths.

"I wish it were, Mr. Summers… but I'm afraid it's not. Today is January 9th, 1999," Doctor Graham said.

For several moments, all Scott could hear was his own pounding heart. The only thing he felt was Jean's hand, caressing his back… but mostly he felt numb. Then suddenly, panic overtook him. He ripped his IV off his hand and stumbled to the door.

"Scott!" he heard Jean yell from behind him, but he couldn't stop himself.

He ran down the hospital hallway. What he was looking for, he couldn't tell. He ran further down and turned a corner. He saw a newspaper stand. He quickly grabbed one of the papers and immediately scanned for the date. Dear God… January 9th, 1999! He dropped the newspaper and kept running.

He could hear Jean and Doctor Graham yelling for him to stop. He quickly looked behind him and saw a couple of orderlies join in the chase. He turned another corner and saw a men's washroom. He quickly ran inside.

He went to the nearest sink and looked at his face in the mirror. His damn glasses were in the way… but even with them, he noticed he looked different. It wasn't a dramatic difference, but a difference nonetheless. He wouldn't say he looked older… at least not so much older… but he definitely didn't look like someone on the brink of twenty-two.

Suddenly, the washroom doors were thrown open and two relatively large orderlies came in. "Sir, you'll have to come with us."

Just outside the door, Scott could see Jean, a look of anxiety on her face. Seeing Jean in distress snapped Scott out of his shock and he slowly followed the orderlies out of the washroom.

Scott turned to Jean. "I'm sorry… I don't know what came over me… I panicked… I'm sorry."

Jean embraced Scott, which took him aback. "It's alright Scott… I know it's a lot to take in… But you must have a care… You're recovering from a very serious injury!"

Feeling sheepish and properly chastised, Scott allowed Jean to take him by the hand and lead him back to his room. But what he saw when he looked down at their hands stole the breath from his lungs. Jean was sporting both a wedding and engagement ring on her left hand! The revelation caused Scott's knees to buckle.

"Scott!" Jean yelled, as she helped steady him with her telekinesis. "Are you alright?"

"Umm… yeah… I uhh… I'm fine," Scott said, trying to gather himself.

He made sure to quickly compose himself and walk back to his room under his own power. He quickly glanced at his own hands… nothing. No wedding band for him, not that he was surprised. If he couldn't marry Jean, then he knew himself well enough that he wouldn't want to get married anyway… Devil take the ten years!

Scott settled himself back in his hospital bed. The nurse put the IV back into his arm. Afterwards, the nurse and the doctor made their way out of his room leaving just him and Jean behind. There was an awkward silence between them. Instead of breaking the silence, he took the time to observe her thoroughly for the first time since he had woken up.

Jean hadn't aged much, if at all in his eyes, but there was a maturity to her now. She certainly carried herself with a different, more confident grace. She was even more beautiful than he remembered her. Her husband was one lucky man. Scott hated him already.

"Scott… Say something," Jean said.

"Tell me about me… what have I been up to the last decade?" Scott asked, almost monotonously.

"The doctor thinks it's better if you're not given too many facts. He wants you to allow the memories to come back naturally for you," Jean answered, a look of regret on her face.

"I see… Why are you here, Jean?" Scott asked.

"What do you mean?" Jean asked, a confused look on her face.

"Look, Jean… I really appreciate you being here, I really do. But it's almost midnight now. And this goes above and beyond what friends do for each other. Go home," to your husband, Scott wanted to say, but couldn't bring himself to. "I'm fine, really."

"Scott… I… I don't want you to be alone. I really don't mind… I want to be here." Jean looked like she wanted to say more, but stopped herself at the last minute.

"Please Jean… please go home… I just need to be alone right now," Scott practically pleaded.

Jean looked torn. She looked like she wanted to tell Scott something, but in the end, she said nothing. She gave Scott the saddest look he'd ever seen and said, "Alright then… Good night, Scott. I'll come back tomorrow morning."

Scott felt relief the moment Jean closed the door behind her. He finally let the tears he'd held at bay to fall. He wished he'd just died in that stupid accident.

To be continued…