Chapter 20

"What's going on, Joel?" Jack asked. "Is it about that guy who was bugging you last night?"

"Kind of." Now that the moment was here, Joel didn't know how to start explaining himself.

"Only kind of?"

"Yeah." Joel took a deep breath and stared at the counter, noting its old, worn surface. He started picking at it. It had definitely seen better days.

After a second, Jack smack his hand.

"Hey. Knock it off. I don't want to have to varnish that counter. It has a few years left in it."

Joel laughed a little. He stopped fidgeting, but he kept staring at the counter rather than making eye contact with Jack.

"Joel, come on. If you want my help, you have to tell me what it's about. I can't do anything if I don't know anything."

Joel tried think about how to start. Then, he remembered one of the times Jack had tried to get at what was happening.

"You asked me once what I was doing here. I told you I was trying to find myself."

"Yeah. I remember. I didn't buy it."

"Well... you should have... because I meant that literally." Finally, Joel looked up. "Jack, I don't know who I am."

"What?"

"I have no idea who I am. I don't know my name, where I'm from, anything."

Jack's brow furrowed and he looked skeptical. "You're trying to tell me that you have amnesia?"

"I guess so. About eight months ago... I woke up in a homeless shelter. I'd been shot. Once in the arm and a graze on my head that... the doc said it would have killed me if it had been any deeper. Guy pulled me out of the river and he said he saw people running after me and shooting at me. He told me I should get out of town as fast as I could. I don't even know what town I was in. I just did what he said and I left. It was on the East Coast, though. Somewhere in... Virginia."

"So why come here?"

"I don't know. When I was deciding where to go, California kept coming up in my mind. I didn't have anything else and if there were people trying to kill me, then, I'd be that much further away from them. And I remember all this music. I don't know why I remember that but not my name. My ID isn't real. I know that's not my real name."

"How?"

"Because I looked up the town listed on it and it doesn't exist. It's a fake ID...only it looks real. Someone made a really good ID. I don't know why I would have that. I was hoping that coming to California would somehow tell me what had happened, but it didn't. Coming here didn't clear anything up. So I just decided that I'd be an aspiring musician until I figured out what to do. Only I haven't figured out what to do. So I'm still doing this."

"Okay, so what does this have to do with the guy in the bar last night, then?"

Joel took another deep breath. He didn't want to talk about this but he needed to. He looked at the counter again, not seeing the worn wood. Seeing something else. Someone else.

"I started having these dreams. At first, all that I heard or saw was blurry and muffled. No details but I was scared of it anyway. After a while, I started seeing this guy in the dreams. I didn't know if he was real or if I'd made him up, but he's always in the dreams. Always. And I'm still afraid. They're so violent. People dying, shooting. They're so loud and every time I have them..."

"That why you were screaming a few months ago?"

Joel looked up and nodded. He swallowed.

"Yeah. That was a bad one." He looked at the counter again. "The guy who was here last night is the one in my dreams."

"So... he's real. Not just a dream."

"Yeah. ...and he seemed to know me."

"Then, why did you look like you wanted him gone?"

"Because of the dreams," Joel burst out after a few silent seconds. "He's always dying or dead in them. He always falls. But sometimes, I pushed him. Sometimes, he trips. Sometimes, someone else comes up from behind and knocks him off. But he always falls and dies. I don't... I don't know if he's on my side... I don't even know what side I'm even on! And he was right there, just appearing out of my dream but I didn't know what to do about it. So I ran away."

"So what do you need my help for?"

"What do I do, Jack?" Joel asked. "I don't know what to do. The reason I never told you before was because... because I don't know who to trust. Not even myself. I don't know if I'm a criminal. I don't know if I'm a hero. I don't know if I'm just some random guy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and I don't mean anything at all. All I know is that I was shot by someone I don't know, for reasons I don't understand. And someone who was probably connected to all that just showed up out of the blue saying that he's been looking for me. What do I do?"

Jack settled back on a stool. He sat there silently for a little while.

"Now, I don't know how you'll feel about this, but maybe you should talk to Lang about it."

"No... I mean... I don't know." Joel sighed. "Does the fact that I automatically don't want to tell the cop mean I'm a criminal?"

Jack chuckled a little. "Man, Joel. I don't know. I don't know anything about this psychological stuff. But I do know Lang, and you can trust him. And he'll be able to look into things without being dishonest about it. Maybe he can figure out who you are."

"What if I don't want to know?"

"Do you not want to know?"

"I do. I just want to know that I'm a good guy, that the reason I'm like this isn't because I did something wrong. I want to find out who I am but only if I'm a person worth knowing."

Jack gave him a thump on the back. "Guess what, Joel. No matter what your name is or who you are, you're worth knowing."

Joel smiled a little and looked over at Jack once more.

"Thanks."

"Now, do you want me to call Lang or do you want to think about it?"

Joel took a breath and let it out in a whoosh.

"Let me think about it for a day. I'll tell you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure. No skin off my nose. But for your sake, think about it. Really think about it. I'll give you the support you need, but I don't know how to actually help you with your problem."

"It helps just knowing that someone else knows about it," Joel said.

"What if this guy shows up again?"

"I don't know. Maybe he won't."

"If he was telling the truth and he's been looking for you for months, then, I doubt that he'd give up that easy."

"Yeah... you're probably right. I have to play it by ear for now. Maybe... Maybe I can talk to him when I know I'm not alone and if he's bad news, I'll have backup."

"Well, you always have that."

"Thanks, Jack."

"You going to practice this afternoon?"

"No. I'm going to go... and think."

"All right. You want to play tonight?"

Joel nodded. "Yeah. Music is the one thing that makes sense, even if I don't like the sense it makes sometimes."

"All right. Come down early. You need a square meal."

"Okay."

Joel left the bar and walked back up to his apartment. He lay down on the bed and tried to think, but he was mostly tired because he'd slept so little. So he tried to let himself relax.

Eventually, he slept.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"They say that these are not the best of times,
But they're the only times I've ever known,
And I believe there is a time for meditation in cathedrals of our own."

The song woke Tim up, and he rolled over to look at the clock. It was after noon. How many times had he pushed snooze before waking up? Oh, well. Did it really matter? With all that had happened, waking up late was the least of his problems.

"What am I going to do?"

He had no idea. Tony had already rejected him once. How could he get to the point where he could get Tony to listen to him? Let him talk?

It was probably pointless trying to talk to him at the bar. He'd have to figure out where Tony was living and try to catch him there. And if he was wrong and Tony really was under duress from someone at the bar, he would be more likely to open up away from the bar. So he'd have to try that, but in order to do that, he'd have to find out where Tony lived.

Maybe he could stake out the bar and follow Tony when he left. He wasn't really very good at that, but he could try it, and if Tony was outside the bar, then, maybe he'd be alone and Tim could still try to talk to him anyway.

That would mean another late night, and Tim could feel that he was still tired. He hadn't fully recovered from the night before. Even though he'd slept, it had been fitful at best.

He'd have to get some more rest if he was going to be able to handle this... something he was already starting to question. Gibbs probably would have known what to do if confronted with Tony acting like he was a complete stranger. Maybe he should just ask Gibbs to come out right now.

But no. No, Tim knew that this was his responsibility. Even though he was struggling, he had to get through to Tony before bringing anyone else here.

So more rest. He'd have to eat, too, but later. He rolled over and tried to sleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Joel was watching for the man to show up again all evening. His playing wasn't quite up to snuff because of it. He was too distracted, but he'd been doing this long enough that people were a little forgiving.

The thing was that he didn't show, and for some reason, Joel felt disappointed. He was conflicted about what to do. He wasn't sure he trusted the man. ...and yet, he felt disappointed that he wasn't there. Why couldn't he just pick an emotion and stick with it? It was so frustrating.

"Last call!"

Finally. Joel took a breath. Tonight had been pretty slow in comparison to the night before. That was all right with him. Not many people in the bar.

"Last request?" Joel called out.

"'Summer, Highland Falls.'"

That was a familiar voice. He fumbled on the keys a little, but he put on a normal expression.

"My first Billy Joel of the night," Joel said with a smile. Then, he leaned over and started playing.

This song hit too close to home for him, but he'd never refused a request yet and it was a nice mellow song to end the evening, even if it seemed to be a song written for people struggling with depression. He finished the first verse and then played some instrumental. Then, it was back to the words that were almost painful to sing.

"So we'll argue and we'll compromise,
And realize that nothing's ever changed,
For all our mutual experience, our separate conclusions are the same.

Now we are forced to recognize our inhumanity,
Our reason co-exists with our insanity.
And though we choose between reality and madness...
It's either sadness or euphoria."

Another instrumental. He could hear the bar emptying out, and he was afraid of what would happen when it was empty, but he tried to remind himself that Jack said he'd be there to back him up. It would be okay. He finished out the song. He finished with a flourish and waited. There was some applause, but he had to get a hold of himself before he could acknowledge it. Finally, he turned around.

The man wasn't there. Joel was sure that it had been the same man who had made that request of an obscure Billy Joel song. The voice was the same, but he sure wasn't here now. Just a couple of stragglers that Jack was now urging to the door. None of them were the man he was looking for. Why come in here, request a song and then leave?

Joel stood up and stretched as usual. Jack walked over to him.

"Well?"

And right then, he made a decision.

"If he can come over tomorrow, I'll talk to him," Joel said.

"Okay. I'll call him."

"Okay."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim waited outside the bar for more than an hour after it was closed, but he never saw even a glimpse of Tony. He had walked inside once to make sure he was there. He was. And he had been playing the piano again. So when he had asked for requests, Tim had found himself making one. That same song he'd been playing for himself, but it had hit him a little too much and so he had withdrawn to wait for the chance to follow Tony to wherever he was living.

But that part of it wasn't happening. There was no Tony to follow.

Cautiously, Tim walked down a dark alley beside the building. He wanted to see what the back of the bar looked like.

But he only got halfway down before he heard something. He turned and in the darkness, there was just not enough to know if he'd heard someone following him or if he had heard his own feet or a cat scrounging. Quickly, he turned on the flashlight on his phone and shone it around behind him. He saw nothing. Not even a hint of something.

Tim was far too aware of the fact that he didn't have backup at the moment. He was completely alone.

He couldn't stay here in this alley. He'd have to try tomorrow.

He ran out of the alley, back to the relative safety of the sidewalk and then returned to the hotel. When he got there, he was exhausted again so he ate some snacks and then fell asleep on the bed, relieved that he was there and not back in that dark alley.

Tomorrow. He'd try again the next day, even if it ended up having the same results. He'd keep trying until something gave.