Alright, this story sucks. The plot is a little unbelievable. Not in the incredible sense-now way-but the in the matter of "yeah right, that would never happen." You know what I mean.

It's the only way that this story would work. I'm not about to research legal stuff at this time of the year. I did a little medical research, but at least that's interesting. ;) Like I've said - you might lose any respect for me if you continue reading this. It's a weird story. ;) But, you've been warned - characters are OOC.

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"Amnesia." He chuckled to himself, almost bitterly and slid his back to the wall.

"It isn't funny," Deb said, crossing her arms. "I would think you, the best friend and potential boyfriend, would know that."

"I didn't say it was funny," he tossed. "And I'm not her 'potential boyfriend,'" Carter added, waving his hands in the air for emphasis.

"Whatever," she answered, edging toward the window of the exam room. She pointed through the pane. "Look at her. Oblivious."

Abby was seated on the bed, her fingers twisting through the air, weaving a story for Susan. The blonde opposite of her giggled, adjusted her cross- legged position on a stool and spoke back. Abby threw her head back and stifled another laugh into two cupped hands.

"I wonder what's so funny," Carter said with a sweet smile.

"She could suffer for days, months, years - "

"I haven't seen her smile, laugh like that in so long," he spoke, coming closer to the glass.

"There could be long-term affects."

"I'm gonna go in there," he laughed. "Say 'hi.'"

Deb sighed and turned on her heel. "You wanna have lunch later or something?"

"Plans with Gamma," he said, mock-excitement filtered. His hand pressed on the door, leading him inside.

"Hey, Dr. Carter," Susan said cheerfully, recovering from a recent fit of chuckling.

"Hi," he nodded. Looking toward Abby, he commented, "How are you?"

Her feet danced slightly under the blanket over her body. "Good, thanks. How long will I have to be here, Dr. Carter?"

"We call him Carter around here," Susan joked, comically sticking a finger into an invisible dimple in his cheek.

He swatted her hand away. "Yeah, yeah." Reddening, he folded his hands on his knee. "You feeling well?"

"Susan's asked me all the health questions already," she winked. Then smiled, "already, *Carter.*"

"And you aren't remembering a thing?"

Abby shook her head. Her hands flew into the air. "Nothing, not a thing." She searched around the room and picked silently at the wool around her. "Not how it happened, when it happened. Not anything."

"But you said before," Susan countered, "that perhaps you were recalling things."

Recognition in the slightest took over her features, her eyes widening and her lips barely separating. "Well," she groaned, "I thought I might remember some stuff. Just little stuff. Tile, for instance."

"Oh," Carter said, shifting. "Bathroom tile, maybe? They found you in the bathroom, they said."

She shrugged, beginning to bite her thumbnail for any memories she could fetch. "I don't know, I don't think so. Something more like tile in general." Her shoulders heaved. "But I don't know."

The entrance of another body shattered the easy feeling of the room. "Susan! We need you!"

"What is it?" she inquired, standing abruptly from her seat, reaching to the left and swinging a stethoscope around her neck.

"Another GSW," Chuny sighed.

"Need me?" Carter asked, as Susan rushed out the door.

"Nope," she said with a satisfied smile. "Feel better, Abby." She ran in another direction, assisting in the clatter down the corridors.

When Carter turned around, he met Abby. Her confused expression, raised eyebrows greeted him. "Chuny," he said. "Another nurse."

"Ah," she said.

The two of them sat enveloped in silence. The faint clicking of a clock somewhere above their heads, and the soft pat of Carter's heel against the tile was the song they witnessed now. She stared ahead, back to her hands quietly. Her fingers rubbing her lips in deep thought, running through her hair in soft boredom.

"Maybe that was it," she whispered.

"Hmm?" he asked, startled by sudden spoken words.

"Maybe that's where I remember the tile from."

"Oh," he nodded. He pulled the chart he clutched down from his chest and skimmed over it with cautious eyes. "Can you piece anything together with the tile? The color, what time it was? Maybe how it happened?"

"You know those things."

"Yes," he said, examining the pen in his hands to keep eyes off of her for an instant. "But I was hoping you might recall some other things."

"It could come back that quick?"

He looked up.

"All the memories."

Eyebrows arched with a faint smile. "There's a chance that they could come back this afternoon. In the next few minutes." He dropped his pen on the floor without thinking as he spoke, reaching down to retrieve it. "But there's a greater chance that you'll regain in the next few days, weeks, months - "

"Years." She sighs.

He stands, lips parted, then takes his seat again. "Years," he iterates, eyes fixed on her face.

She yawned and stretched her arms over the surface of the wool. "You know," she said, hint of laughter in her voice, "it seems almost logical to think that if you were in my place you wouldn't care that much. seeing as you don't know what's going on. You don't know what has gone on before all of this." She laughs, "You don't even know how it happened either."

She straightened her body against the given pillows. "But it sucks." She smiled and chuckled a bit.

"I disagree."

"Oh," she said, "So you think this is fun? You're right. It's a hoot."

He smiled at his knees, gathered at the center. "No," he said. "I meant that. I think that even if you don't know, you'd still like to."

She squinted toward him, adjusting her view and studying his features. "You're right," she confessed, returning to her fingertips, dancing on the blanket.

He laughed aloud.

"What?" she asked.

"Same old Abby."

" 'Same old Abby?' " She giggled, her hushing exhausted. "What is that.?"

" 'It's a hoot.' "

She shook her head slightly, trying to interpret this.

"You're sarcasm." He nodded. "It's still there."

She shrugged. "Maybe it's all coming back."

They caught eyes for a minute, glances mingling in one room. Her hands folded in her lap and her eyes became soft. "Are we friends?"

He fixed his glance on a lock of her hair, a curl in vagrant style. "Yes we are. I consider you my best friend." His voice perked at the term, and he flashed her a smile. A confident smile.

Her cheeks smiled as his began to burn and she shook her head. "Then I really wish I would remember you."

"Call me Carter." He winked with his subtlety.

"I've been told," she said.

"And you've remembered."

"Oh," she said, familiar with her sardonic phrases. "That was a test of some sort wasn't it?" Her finger waved in the air beside her head, perhaps for emphasis she desired.

"Of course." He gathered his materials. "I *am* a doctor."

"And I'm a nurse."

"Yes," he said, slightly jumping. "Did you remember that?"

"No," she said. "Susan told me."

His shoulders dropped, almost sagged, and he started out of the room. "Okay then. Well, you're remembering names now aren't you?"

"It's not like I'm still losing my mind."

He nodded. "Yeah, that's right."

She altered her position once more. "Do I have to stay here until I'm better?"

He stopped his move to the door and eyed the tile. "I'll check."

"Thank you," she said as he stepped out the door. He rushed through the lazy halls and came up to Chen, vigorously tapping her shoulder.

Breathing quietly over the pile of charts, consuming energy no doubt, she rolled her eyes. "What is it?"

"Where's Abby going?"

She looked at his excited expression, shrinking back. "What?"

"Where is she going?" he asked, hands twirling in front of him. "Where is she staying? Where is she required to go? Under whose care?"

Chen folded a sheet of paper backward. "With family."

"With friends?"

"With family."

"She doesn't want to stay here," he said, "and I'm sure she doesn't have any family."

"How do you know that?"

"I know," he protested, his voice clinging and capable. "Her mother's. well, she has a health problem."

"Oh, that's right," she sighed. "You know her dad's number?"

Carter's feet found a new state, moving nervously around the floor. "*She* doesn't know her dad's number."

Chen sighed. "You want her to stay with you?"

He shrugged, trying to back away at the most.

"That's kind of sick, Carter."

"Deb, you know that I wouldn't think of it like that." He winded his hands together, up his arms to shelter from any chills. "She doesn't want to stay here."

She held her charts under her arm and paraded off and away, toward Abby's room. He gripped the tool around his neck, there everyday, and chased after her. Stopping in the door way, and ignoring a glare from Chen.

"Who says she's going to trust you, John?" she murmured, under her breath. "How are you Abby?"

"Fine, thanks." She pointed her hands in a peak straight forward. "I'm sorry if I don't remember who you are."

"Jing-Mei Chen," she said extending a hand. He watched the two of them become reacquainted.

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Turn back and leave now. I highly recommend it.

Or, if you're certain you can handle it, go ahead and drop a review. Constructive criticism, anyone? ;)

-mandy