Series: Snapshots of the Past

Story: Say You Love Me Too

Chapter 11

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Previously: Abbey struggled to understand why her memories of the attack keep overlapping the memories of her life; Jed was overwhelmed with guilt when he found out about a latex glove that was covered with Abbey's tears the night of the attack

Summary: Abbey has a difficult time in physical therapy; more bits of pieces of Abbey's memory come back, causing her to remember Jed's love for her; after badgering the police, Jed tries to come up with ways to help Abbey; unbeknownst to Jed, he and Abbey take an interest in a journal article for different reasons

- - -

Gripping a Nerf ball is a task so simple even a small child could do it, usually with no problem. The foamy sphere presents very little resistance as it adapts its shape to the indentations made by the fingertips. And that very quality, which makes it an ideal toy for youngsters, also makes it a valuable commodity for physical therapists.

But unlike children, patients who are forced to exploit the advantages of the ball as a method of healing frequently wage war against the challenge.

Patients like Abbey.

"I can't do it!" she cried as her fingers just barely grazed the yellow foam.

Hal Johnson stood in front of her, his hands crossed over his chest and very little sympathy escaping his strong exterior. "Yes, you can."

Abbey looked at him with pleading eyes. Her back was pressed against her chair and beads of sweat trickled down her face, colliding with a few stray tears that she finally allowed to fall.

"It hurts!"

"I know it does," he assured her as he gently tried to bend her fingers to sculpt the round surface. "But you have to do this."

The pain in her hands overpowered her. Every attempt to squeeze the globe-like object made her feel as if the wounds on her palm were opening up again. It wasn't worth it. Not to her.

"I'm done," she declared as she dropped the ball and rose from her seat.

"Abbey."

"I said I'm done. I can't do it." She dabbed the corner of her eyes with a tissue, wiping away any residual wetness.

"Should I call Jed? You were doing much better when he was here with you last time."

"I don't need Jed. I'm telling you I know my limits. I can't do this."

"How many times are you going to say that word?"

"What word?"

"Can't."

"As many times as you need to hear it," she sniped as she yanked on the hem of her royal blue sweatshirt to pull it down over the top of her pants.

Hal stood behind her, softening his approach when she turned towards him. "I know this is hard. I know you're overwhelmed. But I also know you're healing quite nicely, both on the inside and the outside. You're starting to get your memory back, right?"

"Jed told you?"

"Yes, he did. He said it's only a matter of time. And once that happens, there's no reason you can't get back to this hospital and continue to be one of the best residents we have on staff. The only thing that's going to hold you back is your inability to use your hands."

She may have forgotten all her years of study, but she hadn't forgotten her devotion to the field of medicine. A commitment that began out of admiration for her grandmother, a physician when Abbey was in grade school, was still alive and well inside her.

Hal knew the right buttons to push. He had known her since she began her residency. All the traits he admired most about her were now the ones he could use to motivate her.

Vulnerable to that realization, Abbey's wall of refusal began to crumble. "I don't know how...it's not happening."

"Sit down," he directed.

As she took her seat, he bent forward from behind her and placed the ball back in her palm. Slowly, he eased her fingers down to close the gap between them. She wiggled against the pain, letting out a few soft moans at the same time. But as her hands closed nearly completely, her discomfort grew rapidly.

"Ow!"

"It's okay." He released his grip as she let out a sigh. "Abbey, I know you. You're as tough as they come. Don't tell me you're afraid of a little pain."

"It's not a little!" she snapped, twisting her body to face him. "It's excruciating! Every time you put that damn thing in my hand, it feels like they're being sliced all over again!"

"You remember that?"

"What?"

"The pain of your hands being cut. You remember what that felt like?"

It hadn't occurred to her, but she did. To her horror, she remembered every agonizing slash. The burning sensation that coursed through her hands and extended to her wrists and arms had been revived through therapy.

"No," she lied. "I just meant that I imagine it probably hurt as much as this does."

"No one lied to you, Abbey." His momentary pause sparked her suspicion. "No one told you this would be easy." With a sigh of relief from Abbey, he continued. "But you've done difficult things before. Hell, you got through medical school, didn't you? That isn't exactly a piece of cake."

"It wasn't like this."

"How do you know? You don't even remember it." Her steely stare reminded him of the imaginary line between them. "I'm sorry."

The truth was, she did remember it. Some of it. She remembered Jed sitting across from her on the sofa, grilling her in preparation for the USMLE. She remembered the way five-year-old Lizzie would sit on Jed's lap and answer the questions her mother would get wrong. She remembered the way Jed cuddled up with her in bed at the end of the day and read to her as she fell asleep because her own eyes were too tired to glance over the small letters in the textbook.

His cheerleading is what got her through her third year of med school. He believed in her at a time when even she didn't believe in herself. Her eyes itched with irritation as they filled with tears. She remembered it. She remembered it all - his words of encouragement, his dedication to all-night study sessions, his undying support of her dream.

He loved her with all his heart. Never before was it so obvious.

Once upon a time, with Jed's support, she thought she could do anything. It was all coming back to her. Nothing, not even a scary knifer could destroy that feeling. But now, she had to reach deep within herself to ask for Jed's help. In order to do that, she'd first have to fight off the demons that consumed her desire to bury her lost memories and mourn their permanent demise.

A chore that was much harder than she expected.

"This isn't going to work today, Hal. Not today."

"When?"

"I don't know," she replied as calmly as possible. "On Tuesday? I just don't feel well today."

"Are you sick?"

"I'm feeling faint and lightheaded. I think I'm coming down with something." Hal pursed his lips and lowered his head. "I don't care if you don't believe me."

"I didn't say I don't believe you."

Desperate to avoid a confrontation, she ignored his tone. "I should go."

She walked past him, her shoulder barely brushing his as she headed towards the door.

Everyone who knew Abbey Bartlet knew that when she wanted something, nothing could stop her. Her stubbornness and fortitude combined to make her a determined woman, surpassing naysayers every step of the way. But that determination, which always guided her like a best friend, was quickly becoming her worst enemy.

Abbey's priorities had changed. She couldn't turn to Jed. She couldn't admit her fear. Instead of embarking on the path towards healing, she battled against it as her body's natural defenses railed around her to shelter her from harm.

No one - not even Jed - knew that over the course of a week, she had intentionally regressed. He was led to believe the opposite, in fact. His hope and optimism raised to the highest levels imaginable, he waited patiently for her to recover.

Well, somewhat patiently.

His patience was reserved for Abbey, but his temper was unleashed on practically everyone else.

"I want to know how close you are to finding this guy," he demanded as he barreled into the police station and stopped beside Detective Harkin, the lead officer on the case.

"As I told you last week..."

"I don't give a damn about last week!" he interjected. "Lets talk this week. What else do you know?"

"Mr. Bartlet, we are doing the best we can."

"You didn't answer my question."

"It's the only answer I have. Until your wife remembers more about that night, we're at a standstill. We've searched for witnesses, interviewed hospital staff, and combed the entire radius several times."

Jed waved his hands to stop the detective. "Was this person a hospital employee?"

"We can't say for sure."

"What the hell CAN you say?"

Harkin turned from him and reached for a large box filled with manila file folders. Each one was decorated with a red or blue clear tab with a name stuffed inside.

"You see these?" he asked as he slammed the box onto his desk, deliberately causing a loud crash to resonate throughout the room.

"Are those the other cases you're working on?"

"These are the ones we're ready to close. They're unsolved."

That word brought with it so many inconceivable connotations. Just the thought of the person who ripped his family apart walking the Earth without ever having to face the consequences of his reprehensible act was enough to make him physically ill.

A wave of nausea crashed over him as his knees weakened at the possibility. A stranger had taken his wife against her will. He had hurt her both physically and emotionally. Images of Abbey frightened and alone, crying as she pled for her life filled him with a rage so strong that it shook him to his core.

No one heard her tears that night. No one rushed to her aide. No one helped her. She was left alone to find her way out of the terrifying situation. And she did. She fought back. Somehow, she escaped the clutches of a psychopath. Her hands torn and bloodied, her clothes ripped and sliced, she wobbled down an abandoned road back to the hospital. Her strength crashing, she barely made it inside before she collapsed.

That's how hard she fought to live.

With everything inside her, she clawed her way back to him that night. He couldn't let her down now. He wouldn't allow her story to sit in a file on Detective Harkin's desk. It wouldn't happen. It couldn't happen. He would make sure of that.

- - -

Like a kaleidoscope brimming with detached patterns to form an endless array of designs, Jed's mind raced with free ideas, only connected out of a desire for justice. There were so many things he had to do. So many he wanted to do. It was almost impossible to know where to start.

Almost.

"Dan? This is Jed Bartlet." He spoke into the phone with a resolve so apparent, it immediately diminished any trace of desperation. "Listen, that bill...the mandatory prison sentences for crimes against women...you've got yourself a co-sponsor."

He couldn't help feeling that no matter what step he took now, it was still too little, too late. The legislative session was ending with virtually no hope for a vote on the controversial proposal until the following February. He had eight months to lobby for support. Eight months to ensure the bill's passage. Eight months to watch his guilt rise with every breath of regret for not backing the bill just a few weeks earlier.

But it was time to make up for that regret. He wanted to help Abbey remember what happened to her, to assist her in connecting the dots to find the person responsible for the agony they all suffered.

And he wanted to start now.

When Abbey waltzed through the door, she didn't expect to find Jed rushing towards her. "Hi," she greeted cautiously.

"I'm so glad you're home," he replied as he led her to the sofa. "How was your appointment with Hal?"

"It was fine. Very productive." She was bending the truth with ease.

"Good."

"What are you so happy about?"

"I'm just hopeful."

"About?"

"I checked with a colleague of mine in the psychology department. He wrote a journal article on hysterical amnesia just last year."

"I wish you'd stop calling it that. There is a more scientific name for it."

"Sorry." He held the journal as he sat beside her. "The point is, I want you to read it with me. It includes so many things that haven't been in any of the books I've been reading."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that when memories come back sporadically instead of in order, like in your case, the chances are good that you'll make a full recovery. And that includes remembering the night of the attack. The possibility exists that if we go back there..."

"Back where?"

"To where it happened." Abbey tensed up at the queasiness in her stomach. "You could remember all of it." She didn't reply right away. "Abbey?"

"That's not exactly safe. Neither one of us is a psychological expert. Something could go wrong."

"Maybe we could get Dr. Hunter to go with us. It's worth considering." His excitement faded slightly as she wrapped her arms around her midsection. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just need us to move slower."

He took a hold of her hands and squeezed them gently as he spoke. "I want you to remember who did this to you, Abbey. I need you to remember that."

"I want that too." Yet another lie. She was getting good at this. "Just not so fast, okay?"

"Of course. Whatever you want."

He was so sweet and understanding. It pained her to admit the one thing he wanted her to remember was the one thing she was determined to block out forever. "So does the article mention the best way to jog a person's memory?"

"Yeah."

"Then what are you waiting for?" she asked with a smile so big that it hid the hurt she was actually feeling.

Jed returned the grin as he sat back against the cushions with one arm was draped around Abbey's shoulder, the other propping up the magazine between them.

Their eyes glazed over the words, deep concentration setting in as he began to read aloud. It never occurred to him they had such distinct goals. While he worked so hard to understand the mechanics behind her condition in an effort to help her remember, she read along with a different ambition.

If she learned ways to help jump-start her memory, then maybe she'd learn ways to help kill it forever.

TBC