CHAPTER 25

Within the next couple of hours an action plan began to take shape, a schedule for the physical therapy and the day to day visits by Iris and Meg and Joan. The fact that there were actually four women concerned about the man in the room made Mrs. Mallard even more curious about the whole situation. But that was not part of her job that she needed to know...at least not right now. At that moment the signal box came to life. John was awake. All three women stood up but Mrs Mallard reminded them exactly why she was hired. Zoe and Iris both laughed and sat back down, this was going to take getting used to.

Tapping on the door as she opened it, Mrs. Mallard walked into the room. John's reaction was as she expected. Wary but alert. "Hello Mr Reese. Do you remember us being introduced earlier? I'm Mrs. Mallard" Once again John reacted, there something familiar...but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. And calling him "Mr. Reese" caused a reaction. Joan and Meg called him John. And so did Zoe and Iris. Who called him 'Mr. Reese'? Shaking his head slightly he decided it was just an echo of the memory of being introduced earlier.

An hour later Mrs. Mallard pushed John out to the balcony looking much more relaxed and refreshed. Both Zoe and Iris felt encouraged that they had been correct in their decision to bring John here. That this was the way to get John 'back'...healthy and whole.

The rest of the evening was spent on the balcony enjoying each other's company and enjoying the snacks that Zoe provided. The next couple of days were going to be busy and complicated for everyone as they settled into a new routine. A call was made to Meg to keep her up to date. Joan had been there and was able to share a moment with John. Zoe and Iris watched him visibly relax while talking to Joan.

That night after getting back to her own place, Iris did more in depth research about treating PTSD. She was particularly interested in the therapy that involved desensitizing patients to the trauma, to help in learning to deal with it and handle it. She felt that plan of action would work best for John considering that he might like to continue his job as a cop. Either way, she wanted him to have options. It was one of the few gifts she was able to give him right now. It might be his last too if he stuck to his decision to break things off with her.

John was a man who naturally preferred to face his fears head on. The trauma that had caused his memory to be blocked had obviously been severe. The more she read the more she felt she was on the right track. Thinking back to the reactions John had to certain things seemed to be the key to helping to unlock those memories. She needed a way to expose him to those situations, sights and sounds in a somewhat controlled environment. Her biggest fear was his memories returning all at one time and that he might be alone when they did. There was so much missing in those five years she wasn't really sure he could deal with it all at once. A few ideas came to her as she read. Jotting down some ideas an active plan was taking shape.

Suddenly she stopped reading. Something had been in the back of her mind since meeting the nurse, Mrs Mallard. Trying to figure out why John had reacted to meeting her. She had checked her background and references and found nothing that alarmed her. Like she had been telling John, instead of trying to figure something out, let your subconscious do the hard work. And it had paid off! The reason John had reacted to the introduction of Mrs Mallard was not the woman herself, but her NAME. Her last name was a bird name. John was connecting the name/word 'mallard' to birds. Harold's last name was Finch, another bird! She needed a way to use that connection.

Casting around for a scenario of how to introduce the subject of birds her eyes fell on a book. A book a that Harold had given her. During their talks he'd explained his fascination with birds. At their last visit together he had given her a beautiful illustrated book of Native American Birds. That was it! She knew what her next step would be.

Another important item was to keep John occupied so he wouldn't spend too much time sitting around 'trying' to remember. All that ended up doing was giving him those horrendous headaches and make him need the pain medicine. His frustration over not being able to force the memories to come was compounded by having to take meds that put him to sleep. Iris had spoken to Meg and Mrs. Mallard about John doing his physical therapy twice a day. Occupying his mind with physical activity would hopefully loosen his subconscious, which was where those memories were locked away. While talking to John she had reinforced the idea of 'letting' himself remember instead of 'trying' to remember.

After a few days the routine had been set. Mrs. Mallard ended up only staying overnight twice. Once John was just mobile enough to get himself to the bathroom on his own, there was no need for her to be there. Instead, she came by during the day to help with John's physical therapy. By the end of the week they established two times a day for the physical therapy with lunch and rest in between. There was plenty of grumping and complaining but John was actually eager to work on getting back his strength.

Iris went back to work at the precinct but only for half days. Lionel was glad to have her back. It was difficult to see him every day and not share the news about John. She knew he still missed his partner greatly. Sameen checked in once in awhile. More to touch base than anything else, to have that connection to John and to Harold. She and Grace had become pen pals of a sort. Grace had reached out to her after Harold had explained how she had helped him deal with the loss of John. Harold seemed to be recovering nicely with Grace although Grace had mentioned the sadness in Harold that seemed to always be there. Knowing that she and Zoe had the cure for that sadness only increased the need and desire to bring John all the way back soon.

Despite only working half days, her days were quite full. She left work after lunch to spend time with John. Their talks were light and easy. They talked a little bit about the past that he remembered. But he was still very reserved talking his CIA days which she understood. The stories of his life before the Army seemed off limits too except for an occasional memorable event. It saddened her that he seem to have no memory of telling her some of those stories. Watching for those 'tells' of when a memory danced around the fringes was giving her some serious clues about how to proceed.

Zoe picked back up with her clients. Sometimes she worked during the day and sometimes at night. John was seldom alone. Meg had come by twice in the first week to check on John. Bringing Joan with her made the visit even better for John.

John's progress with the physical therapy had been impressive but daunting. He was getting some of the use back in his arm but not to the degree that he wanted and needed. Same with his leg. He had graduated to using the walker from the bedroom to the living room and from the living room to the balcony. However the treadmill was the best for him because he could concentrate on his leg instead of his arm AND his leg with the walker. His independence was growing day by day. Meg had tried to prepare him that he may very well never get back to 100% of the way he had been. There had been so much damage done to the nerves and muscles. The hardest part was trying to explain to him that he would probably always have a limp and that he would probably need a cane to walk. That news had set him back a day or two while he absorbed how that was going to impact the life he was expecting to return to. But it did serve to give him a goal…..to prove them wrong.

Joan's visits continued to comfort John. The physical therapy was working, he was improving physically, getting stronger. But his frustration was starting to get the best of him. The lack of progress in regaining his memory was becoming a major concern for all of them. Watching him struggle was becoming more and more difficult for Iris and for Zoe. His temper was beginning to show as his level of frustration grew.

The afternoons that Iris spent with John after his physical therapy had its their ups and downs. He seemed to enjoy her company and enjoy talking about some elements of his past that he remembered. But when the talk turned to his work with the NYPD, his inability to remember anything quickly brought him to a breaking point. More than once Iris had to stop the direction of their discussion. He resisted until the headaches began. She explained to him that the headaches were his body taking control of his mind...making him let go of what was causing the pain. There were glimmers of memory but never enough to latch onto. Iris felt there was some progress but not enough to suit John.

One of the John's worst days was during the 2nd week that he'd been at Zoe's. That particular day had started out rough with the physical therapy taking a new direction. Mrs. Mallard pushed him almost as hard as he pushed himself. This time she had been the one to call it a day. The idea that he 'might not' make a 100% recovery was always in the back of his mind and it only served to drive him harder.

Berating himself mentally, he showed no mercy. Sweat was pouring off of him and his arm and his legs felt like jelly. 'I've been injured before. I've been shot before...HELL, I've been shot lots of times before. But this time, why was it taking longer to recover?' He muttered under his breath. Pushing himself away from the therapy table he made his way over to the hospital bed. Waving away Mrs. Mallard he said, "I can take care of myself. I don't need any more help!" He was damn tired of 'taking it easy' and damn tired of 'taking it slow'. Results were what he wanted...what he needed.

Mrs. Mallard recognized that he was angry at himself and not her. She nodded and said she would see him tomorrow morning. Walking to the door she looked back at him and shook her head. He'd come a long way in just 10 days but he was going to have to find his limitations himself.

She passed Iris in the kitchen putting up groceries. She stopped for a moment to tell her what had happened. She recommended Iris let him deal with himself for a bit. His anger was directed at himself but he was lashing out at anybody within range. Iris thanked her for her understanding and advice and walked her to the door.

A short time later Joan showed up with Meg for a check-up and visit. After Mrs. Mallard had left, John had spent so long by himself in the shower and in his room, Iris had become concerned. She'd planned on giving him another 15 minutes and then she'd go check on him but Meg and Joan buzzed from the lobby at the perfect moment. She was extremely happy to see them both. This was new territory with John starting to push back against his 'caregivers' and him allowing his natural frustration over being 'babied' was coming through.

Hearing Iris talking to Meg and Joan, John came out of his room. Everybody was shocked to see him using the walker and not the wheelchair. His movements were slow and measured but he was walking!

Meg watched him navigate his way into the living room, smiling to herself all the way. She was still amazed that he was alive, much less walking under his own power. Joan was almost beside herself in happiness. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she smiled at John. There were still miracles in the world.

Moving the walker on his own with one good arm and one so-so arm was not easy. He caught the front leg of the walker on the corner of an end table as he was making his way into the living room. He'd had eyes only for Joan and was not watching where he was going as closely as he should have been. He almost stumbled when his bad leg couldn't support his whole weight as his walker shift unexpectedly. But by sheer strength of will he held himself upright and found his balance again.

Joan started toward him but Meg held her back with a light touch on her arm. John had to learn to catch himself if he was going to gain any true independence.

Once he'd settled down on the couch, Joan walked over and sat beside him. Holding his hand, all she could do was smile. He'd come so close to death. Patting his leg she looked at Meg. "Meg, you are a true miracle worker!"

"I'll be the judge of that. A lot of it has to do with the man himself." Meg answered. "Let me check you out John and make sure you're doing as well as it seems you are. But we can do that a little later. We came to visit so...let's visit!"

The relaxed atmosphere and companionship soothed John's soul. He wasn't thinking about his limitations. He wasn't comparing how little he could do now to what he had been able to do before. He promised himself he would never take being healthy and in good physical shape for granted, ever again.

Meg regaled them with tales from the weekend. She'd declared it a success because she hadn't lost any patients and only two ended up being transported to a hospital. John commented about some of her 'regulars' and Joan provided the colorful background.

A delicious smell wafted its way from the kitchen. Zoe had waltzed in after meeting a client. After greeting everyone, she changed into casual clothes, at least what past as casual for her, and proceed to cook up a meal that had everyone's mouth watering. She had volunteered to cook dinner if Iris would do the grocery shopping.

Once again the theme for dinner was Italian. Iris had suggested it since John had responded so well to the take-outs they'd dined on at the clinic. He had reacted like there was a memory there, just out of reach. And they were not disappointed this time either. Zoe had cooked a meal that she knew John loved, something he had asked for quite a few times when he'd found out she was such a good cook and they'd spent the rare night at her place rather than meeting out somewhere to eat.

Sitting around the dinner table enjoying a delicious meal like a family, Zoe smiled to herself. She had bought a big dining room table to fit the decor of the room, never dreaming should would A have enough people to fill the table up. Watching John smile and laugh while talking was heartening after all the hardship after the past few months.

Glancing toward Iris, she was surprised at the unguarded look on her face. She was smiling and laughing right along with Joan and Meg. She had only seen Iris under mind numbing despair and sadness and tremendous stress. She was enjoying herself and living in the moment. The 'doctor' was not at the table tonight, the woman was.

As if she felt herself being watched, Iris turned toward Zoe and smiled. There was so much in that smile that Zoe was taken aback. There was a lot riding on John's recovery and his returning memory. Turning back to the conversation at the table, Iris smiled at Joan and returned to watching John. Joan reached out and squeezed Iris's hand and let go. Their connection was getting stronger every day.

After a dessert of Italian ice, everybody retired to balcony to relax and have an after dinner drink. Zoe brought out some wine and beer and everybody got comfortable sitting outside looking over the city. Joan declined the wine, preferring to drink water. Too many memories of her son and even some of her friends from the streets who were lost to its pernicious effects. Even John had battled the bottle part of the time he lived with her.

Iris cleaned up the dinner and loaded the dishwasher, turning it on. Zoe was a neat freak while she cooked so there was little to clean in the kitchen and she was able to quickly rejoin everybody on the balcony. Conversation was at a minimum, each person just enjoying the company.

John downed two beers pretty quickly but Meg stopped him from having a third. "John, that's enough considering all the meds you are on right now. How about I check you out and then Joan and I need to get back." John rolled his eyes but knew she was right. The key was that he was making progress…...just not at the pace he wanted.

The next couple of days the physical therapy changed. Mornings were for free weights to work his upper body and the treadmill in the afternoons for his legs. Using the free weights to help strengthen his damaged arm and shoulder was pure torture. The weakness caused by the nerve damage was frustrating to John. The improvement was so slow it was almost non-existent. Right now, the muscle fatigue had set in and now every repetition was done with his arm shaking uncontrollably. After dropping the weight the third time he'd had enough.

Mrs. Mallard watched quietly while he dealt with this limitation himself. She'd learned quite a bit about him these last couple of weeks while watching him put himself through excruciating exercises trying to move things along faster. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it did not, like today. He was a man who liked to be his own boss and wasn't all that happy with someone else being in charge. Interesting personality trait that probably worked well in his job in 'personal security', where he'd been injured, she thought.

Once he seemed to pause in his personal, private conversation with himself she made a decision. It wasn't part of the plan that had been worked out for him but she'd been given permission to do what she felt was necessary to keep his progress going.

"Mr. Reese, I think you've done enough work today. What do you say to maybe taking a ride?" she asked.

It took a moment for John to realize that Mrs Mallard had spoken to him. He'd been so wrapped up in berating himself for the physical weakness he was experiencing he'd completely forgotten she was even in the same room with him. He knew he was not doing well if he forgot where he was and who was there. That was something that had been trained into him from the moment he'd entered the military. And honed to a fine edge while with the CIA...always be aware and alert to your surroundings no matter what was going on. You were aware or you were dead.

"A ride? In this damn wheelchair?" He glared at her. Trying to rein in his anger and frustration...he knew none of this was her fault...but she just happened to be in his line of fire.

Smiling back at his scowling face she answered, "No, a ride outside of this apartment. A ride through the streets of NYC. I have my car with me today."

Leaning back in the wheelchair, John used his good arm to wipe the sweat off his face. Looking at her smiling at him, he felt his anger slowly fade to a low rumble in the background, Nodding his head he finally smiled back and said, "I would most definitely like that. But I need to clean up first, don't you think?" plucking his sweat stained shirt off his chest. He gave 100% during each physical therapy session. " Whatever you feel most comfortable with." Mrs. Mallard replied with a laugh.

Mrs. Mallard got him situated in the shower and let him take care of himself. She'd learned very early on that he was determined to do as much as possible by himself. He'd reached a point in his recovery that he resisted almost any help. She laid out the clothes for him on the hospital bed and left him to his own devices.

While John was taking his shower, Mrs. Mallard made a call to Iris to let her know what the plans were for the afternoon. She was pleased that Iris agreed with her that an 'outing' would definitely be a good thing. Especially after she described his frustration over the speed, or lack thereof, in his physical recovery. Mrs. Mallard calling it "time off for good behavior" making Iris laugh.

John stripped off his sweat soaked clothes. Giving everything he had to every physical therapy session wrung him out. He knew it was going to take time and he knew he was making progress. It was the speed that was driving him crazy. He had been injured before and had recovered faster.

Standing up slowly and holding onto the bathroom counter he looked at himself. Seeing the patchwork of old scars and the new, still healing fresh wounds he was reminded that this was the worst he'd been injured all at one time. Shaking his head he also reminded himself that a building fell down on him. He was damn lucky to be alive.

There were still scars from injuries that he did NOT remember. He could place every single bullet wound and injury from his time in the military and the CIA. But there were quite a few that he had no memory of. They had to be from that 'gray time'. One on his right shoulder, a second in his lower abdomen, his legs had many scars from bullet wounds but there were some on his right leg that he definitely didn't remember. Shaking his head he was again in awe that he could be injured that badly and yet have no memory of how he'd gotten injured!

Once he was back in the wheelchair and dressed, he definitely felt better and was looking forward to the "field trip" with Mrs. Mallard.

Being in the car with Mrs. Mallard resulted in an unexpected reaction for John. He suddenly felt like he could breathe. Seeing people walking and talking, driving and riding made him realize how removed he was from everyday life. He felt like he'd been holding his breath for a month. NYC was a wonderland of diverse people, sights and sounds that he had been missing. Looking over at Mrs. Mallard, behind the wheel, he smiled. "Thanks for breaking me out."

Having no particular plan or goal in mind, they just drove. John was enjoying himself. The talk was superficial and relaxing. A thought suddenly occurred to John and he looked over at Mrs. Mallard.

"Did you know me before you came to work with me? Had we met before you started my physical therapy?"

Looking slightly puzzled Mrs. Mallard answered, "No, the first time I met you was day you came home from the hospital."

"So we'd never met? You didn't know me before my injury?"

"No. That was the first time we met. Why do you ask?"

John sat quietly for a moment, looking out the windshield at the traffic, digesting that piece of news. Then he smiled.

Looking back over at Mrs. Mallard he said, "Finally! I finally meet somebody who DIDN'T know me before I was...hurt. We have no 'unknown history' of any kind." He smiled even bigger. It was such a relief to meet somebody who didn't know him, someone that was not holding back any memories of him. Someone who was not always 'watching him' for a reaction like Meg, Joan, Zoe and Iris did. He knew they wanted to help him but it was galling to have people know more about him than he did about himself. He had the feeling that he was not being told everything...that may be he might not be able to handle everything yet. Having Mrs. Mallard on the same 'playing field' that him felt wonderful.

Mrs. Mallard looked over at John. Seeing the complete amazement in his gaze she intuitively put together a few clues she had been keeping track of. "You're dealing with some amnesia issues aren't you?"

Reacting immediately to her question, John shut down. Quickly reviewing the story that Zoe and Iris had given Mrs. Mallard about his 'on the job injuries' he realized there had been no mention of the gap in his memories. How had she picked up on that so fast? Had he jeopardized the 'story' that protected all of them?

Turning the different scenarios around in his mind, John could find no concerns that would be raised if he admitted to the amnesia. And it might even help if she knew, just in case he had a 'meltdown' or whatever, if...no... WHEN he got his memory back and she was the only one there at the time.

"Yes. My injury was severe enough I've apparently blocked out how I got hurt and how I came to be in that spot at that moment. I don't seem to remember anything about my security/bodyguard job." He was careful to tell as much of the truth as possible to make it meld with the fiction. He didn't offer any more details and she was wise enough to realize that was all he was going to say on the subject.

When something caught John's eye they'd find a way to drive by it again. John noticed that some things he was seeing seemed to be slightly familiar. That vague ache in his head let him know it was something from his missing past. It was the practice of 'letting himself' remember, as Iris had told him versus 'trying to remember' that was difficult. But she'd been right, more memories were floating around on the edges of his memory and he'd had fewer debilitating headaches.

Mrs. Mallard kept a close eye on him. Watching for the telltale signs of fatigue, both mental and physical. Now that she knew a bit more about John and his injuries she was much more aware of his actions and reactions. She noticed the slight squint to his eyes, usually followed by a frown. Was that a memory floating around on the fringes? Even more noticeable was the rapid blinking he did. That seemed to also be connected to a memory.

"I think we've played hooky long enough. We need to be heading back to Ms. Morgan's place." she said without looking at him. She knew him well enough to not allow herself to show her awareness of his fatigue. She'd learned early on not to point out any weakness to him.

Frowning for a moment, John realized he was very tired just sitting in the car. He was mentally tired because of so many 'almost memories' hovering around the periphery of his mind. Each vague thought led to another thought but nothing concrete he could hold onto. Buildings were familiar. Streets were familiar. But he didn't know WHY they were familiar. His frustration was growing. He needed a moment to collect the scattered thoughts, a moment to clear his mind to see if he could make any connections.

"I've enjoyed today. It's been nice to see something other than those four walls, no matter how pretty they are." he answered with a smile. "Maybe it is time to go back."

Mrs. Mallard decided to take the scenic route back to the condo. Taking the lesser traveled streets there were more small parks to see and glimpses of the river between the blocks. Suddenly John sat up and reached out to touch Mrs. Mallard on the arm. "Drive down by the river, please." He wasn't even sure why he said that, but it felt important.

"Sure. Any particular way you would like me to go?"

"The Queensboro Bridge...from the Queens side, there's a little park..." John said in a whisper, not sure at the moment how he knew this.

Cutting her eyes at John, Mrs. Mallard took note of the intense look on his face. There was something there, something attached to a memory, perhaps?

As they exited the bridge, she could see there was a grassy area just underneath it. One lone bench sat there. It was a little off the beaten path of regular foot traffic so the area was empty. A neglected baseball diamond was off to one side.

Quietly John asked her to stop the car. Sitting there, looking at the bridge and then at the empty bench John felt this was indeed an important spot to him. But he did not yet now WHY it was important. Mrs. Mallard watched him closely. The frown, the squinting of the eyes was back.

"Do you want to get out Mr. Reese?" she asked softly. Never looking at her, his eyes seemed to be searching for something...or someone. "Do you want me to get the wheelchair out for you?"

John nodded, almost afraid to speak, afraid to interrupt the moment. As she got out to get the wheelchair out of the trunk, John continued to look all around him.

Getting into the wheelchair, had been relatively easy. But he wanted to go to the bench. He felt a strong pull toward the bench...to touch it. Maybe just by touching it he would feel something, remember something.

Mrs. Mallard pushed the wheelchair over the grass and parked it by the bench. Putting the brake on it she looked around. It was a great view. The river was relatively quiet here. Not a lot of boat traffic. The car traffic on the actual bridge was muffled, even though it was almost directly overhead. Looking back at John she asked, "Are you all right here or do you want to sit on the bench?"

John glanced over at the bench and then back at her. "I think I'd like to sit on the bench for awhile, alone." She simply nodded and helped him over to the bench and got him seated. "I'll be in the car if you need me." Never taking his eyes off the river, he nodded.

The view was familiar. He felt he'd been here more than one time. The 'view' had layers, different times of the year…..different people? He closed his eyes to see if one view stood out more than the others. There were two very strong memories associated with one person. It was a man. One memory was...Fall maybe? Light coat, chilly. The other memory, much colder, heavier coats? Strange things to remember. But when he tried to see the face of the man in the memory he got that same fuzzy image that had haunted his dreams awhile back.

Opening his eyes he looked around. The view was so familiar. He tried harder to focus on the face of the man 'next to him' on the bench. Nothing. Except the beginning of one of the headaches. He clenched his jaw in frustration. He was SO close. This was important. Who was that man? Was it that man, Harold, that Zoe and Iris has mentioned? Or Lionel Fusco? Again, neither name rang a bell. Why was this bench, this park, this view so important to him?

He found himself gripping the bench with his one good hand, leaning forward with his eyes closed. Trying to remember, trying to move past the pain in his head.

He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. It startled him. Opening his eyes he was almost gasping for breath. He heard a woman's voice "Mr Reese? Are you alright?"

Suddenly everything went quiet. The pain receded for a moment. A moment of clarity …..a man's voice, in his ear asking, "Mr. Reese? Mr. Reese are you alright?"

And then it was gone. Blinking rapidly, John looked up to see Mrs. Mallard standing over him.

"I'm fine." he whispered, wondering where that memory came from….and where it went.

EDITORS NOTE: Stay tuned dear readers, the moment you've all been waiting for is coming up in the next chapter...John will finally get his memory back!