Who Are You? Who Am I?

by Arscapi

The team must help a victim with amnesia. [oneshot]

Title: Who Are You?

Spoilers: I haven't decided when this takes place but it has to be when graveyard is together.

Author: Arscapi

Author's Note: CSI doesn't belong to me I just borrowed them for a while. Oh and special thanks as always to my beta-reader for keeping all the POVs straight. Again, my breaks disappeared, so I apologize.

I'm wet.

Why am I wet?

I'm wet and cold.

And what is that noise? It sounds like, like a buzzing...thing.

Okay, let's think about this. I'm wet and cold and there's a …. OW!

Now I'm hurt and moving. What just HIT me?

I should open my eyes and find out. But my head really hurts now. The black is really soothing and comforting. And for a minute, I don't feel as cold as I did before. Everything's feeling kinda...fuzzy right now. Warm and fuzzy. I can feel myself drifting along...

Whoa. I kinda zoned out for a second there. I really should find out where I am and what's out there. And to do that, I Have to open my eyes.

Okay, slowly now...

Well the sky is pretty tonight. Although I don't think I'm used to seeing this many stars. Hey at least I know that much. So where am I? Obviously I'm somewhere that there's a lot of water since I'm floating on my back looking at the stars. Other than that, I have no idea.

What's that? It sounds like someone splashing. At least I hope it's someone and not something because whatever it is seems to be splashing this way. Well, let's see what it is. Oooohh, this isn't good. I'm feeling sort of disconnected from my body.

Let's try this again...turn my head, move the eyes... OOOOOHHH, that HURT! Look, it's a guy. And that warm, fuzzy feeling is coming back in a big way. I feel my eyes slide close and let the warmth wash over me before I myself to open my eyes. Hey, he's coming this way. That's nice. Maybe he knows where I am and what's going on.

He's looking right at me. Suddenly, he turns his head and shouts, "She's alive!" to someone. I'm assuming it's someone anyway and that he's not crazy.

Wait a minute! Does he mean ME? I hope I'm alive; the pain in my shoulder certainly makes me think I'm alive. Actually I'm not feeling much of anything right now, except for tired. I am really, really tired.

Oh! The man is on the move again, still coming towards me. "It's okay, you're safe now," he says.

That's nice. It's good to be safe. Although, was I not safe before? I'm concentrating on that question so hard I barely feel his arms around me. Although I do register that he seems to be moving us somewhere. Well, since I'm safe now, I think I'll just take a little nap. I close my eyes as a few more hands grab me.

"Call just came in. We've got another one," Nick Stokes called as he leaned against the doorway.

Sara Sidle looked up from her compuater, her face grim at the news. "Where?"

"Lake Mead," he said, motioning for her to grab her coat. The two CSIs hustled out to the dark blue Chevy Tahoe waiting in the parking lot.

"That's the furthest one out so far. Do you think he's leaving the area?" Sara asked as she climbed into. Nicke's answer was lost as he gunned the engine and race out onto the street.

The drive took about thirty minutes and they spent most of the dive running through the evidence from the case. They arrived at the crime scene in time to see the EMTs secure the rear doors of the ambulance. Flipping open their identification, they were directed to the ranger in charge.

He was watching the ambulance drive off as they approached him. "You just missed her," he blandly informed them.

"We saw." Nick tried to keep the irriation out his voice. "You didn't wait for the ME," he pointed out, drawing attention to the lapse in protocol.

The ranger grinned at the pair as he pushed his hat further up on his head. " 'Course we didn't. She's not dead."

Nick and Sara smiled at the thought of having a living witness. "So where was she found?" Sara asked, eager to get started.

He pointed out towards the lake. "Over there. One of my guys almost hit her on his way back to the station."

Nick gazed out at the water, a resigned look on his face. "Wonderful. You want to go up or down?" he asked.

Sara bit down a groan, knowing they'd have to canvas a good part of the shore for signs of where she went in.

"Down, I guess," she said and began walking that way.

I slowly open my eyes again and look around. The bright sunshine pouring in tells me I've been asleep for a while. Also, since I'm in a bed, I'm obviously not in the water anymore.

Okay where am I now? Man, I just had the other place figured out.

Looking around without moving my head a lot, I can see sterile white walls, a wall-mounted TV and what looks like another bed on the other side of a seriously tacky curtain. I must be in a hospital. Well, hooray for me, I have astounding logic skills.

Now what do I do?

I'm saved from making anymore decisions as a group of people enter the room. A man in a white coat is in the lead, followed by a dark-haired man and woman.

"… she's resting comfortably now," the man in the long white coat said. I'm thinking he's a doctor and I'm the 'she' they're talking about. The doctor turns to face me and notices that I'm awake. "Good afternoon, I'm Dr. Michels."

Hey! I was right again.

"I took care of you in the ER," he explains as he comes over and checks the readouts on my monitors. "Do you remember?"

"No," I answer automatically. Is that my voice? Do I always sound that hoarse and scratchy? Wait, why don't I know the answer to my own question?

"That's fine," he says, keeping his voice low and comforting. "What do you remember?"

"Water and a man coming towards me," I answer.

I watch as the other people make disappointed faces. I must have said something wrong. Okay, girl, think! Anything, anything will help. Nope, I got nothing except watching the blue sky. This seems a little odd...

"That's fine," the doctor says soothingly. "How about something simple. Can you tell us your name? Where you're from, maybe?"

Of course I can tell them my name! I open my mouth to say the answer I'd been able to give since I could talk. Only, nothing's coming out. I can't remember! I lay there, trying to make the words form but there is nothing. Come to think of it, I can't even picture what I look like. This isn't good. Oh, this is so NOT GOOD!

My confusion and distress must have shown because the dark haired woman gently said, "You don't remember do you?"

I closed my mouth and shook my head. This cannot POSSIBLY be happening. I mean, seriously, amnesia only happens in soap operas and bad B movies.

The man with the short dark hair steps forward and smiles at me. "I bet we can find out," he says in a reassuring tone. "I'm Nick Stokes and this is my partner Sara Sidle. We're from the Las Vegas Crime Lab. We'd like take your fingerprints and see if we can't find a match in our database."

I shrugged and said, "If it'll help."

"It always helps," Nick informed me as he pulled a small rectangle from a box that was resting on a nearby table. "We'll get this taken care of as quick as possible. And I promise, it'll hurt a whole lot less than anything this doctors have done." He flashed me a flirty little grin as he grabbed my right and began inking my fingers.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

"How'd it go," Warrick asked when Sara and Nick returned to the lab.

"Good and bad," Nick said, quickly filling Warrick in. "The witness is alive but she doesn't remember anything."

"Hmm, well if you need anything..." Warrick offered, clasping Nick on the shoulder as he walked off.

"Yeah, thanks. I better get started processing the prints." Nick nodded at Warric

Warrick waved and disappeared into DNA, leaving Sara and Nick to analyze the prints. Nick plugged in the portable fingerprint scanner and loaded them into the computer.

"Start with local work cards," Sara reminded him as she pulled out the damp clothing the victim had been wearing and spread them across the table in front of her.

"Right," he said punching the search parameters into the computer. As he waited for the computer to run his search, he walked around the table to help Sara process the clothing. He looked over the clothing, trying to get an idea of what the victim was like. The jeans were brand name but well worn. Sara was processing the top but he could see that it was a sweater. There was also a jacket and heavy boots. It seemed that she had dressed for a night at the lake. Maybe she had a campsite or was camping nearby, although he and Sara had found no evidence of that.

Picking up the boots, he turned them over to examine the soles, hoping it would give them some clue as to what had happened. Going over it, a piece of string caught his attention. Reaching over to grab a pair of tweezers and a bag, he carefully grabbed the string and placed in gently into the bag. Then he held the bag up to the light to get a better look at the string.

"What's this look like to you?" he asked Sara, handing her the bag.

Sara's response was interrupted by the beeping computer with its results.

"Maybe a piece of rope," Sara guessed as Nick walked back around the table to check the computer. After a few seconds of silence, she prompted with an exasperated, "Well?"

"Nothing so far. I'll widen the search," Nick said, typing in the new search parameters.

The CSI was here again. Actually, he just left. Unfortunately, I'm not a match to anyone in their system, so we still don't know who I am. The good news is that I seem to be okay. Although I suppose it's a good thing I'm not a match to anyone in their system since that means I'm not a criminal. Mr. Stokes (I seem to be able to remember things now) said the department would find a place for me to stay. I'm kind of afraid that their definition of a place to stay is a holding cell. Why can I remember that police stations have holding cells, but can't remember my friends and family? This is sofrustrating.

So I've come up with a game to try to help myself remember, kind of like what the CSIs are doing. I keep asking myself questions, like what was I doing on the lake? Was I meeting friends? Why was I there at night? Do I like to go camping? So far all my questions have just led to more questions, but it's better than sitting around waiting for someone else to tell me who I am. They have been able to tell me that "the evidence indicates" nothing horrible happened to me, aside from losing my memory and spending half the night floating in the lake. Because losing my memory and spending half the night floating the lake apparently isn't horrible enough. All that does is bring me back to the questions.

Nick stopped to watch the woman that had been rescued from the lake through the window in her door. Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair. Why didn't they have more information on her? They had no evidence of a crime, no ID, and no reason why she was in the lake. It wasn't unusual that she hadn't appeared in CODIS.It simply meant that whatever she did for a living didn't require fingerprints and she'd never been arrested.

He looked down at the photographs he'd just taken. They were partly evidence, and partly to help ID her. The next step was to give her picture to the local news so they could broadcast it. He still wasn't sure if broadcasting her picture was smart since she was the first victim to survive. Although nothing about her made sense, they should probably stop categorizing her as a victim of the serial killer.

"Time to get back to work," he told himself turning from the window as his phone rang. "Stokes," he answered as he flipped his phone open.

"It's Sara. They found another body in Lake Mead."

"Near where our Jane Doe was found?"

"A few miles north. Some fishermen found him this morning."

"I'm just leaving the hospital. I'll be there as soon as I can," he said as he walked up to the Tahoe.

Ok, clothes, clothes are good. So how come I can remember things like how to dress myself, but I can't remember important details like who I am?

I wander over to a mirror to examine the result. I look horrible! Did they really take pictures of me looking like this! I search for the brush that the nurse brought in a little while ago. It takes a while but I finally get my hair to look normal. I assume it's normal; it's not like I remember how I used to wear it.

The clothes are still somewhat frightening. I hope my taste in clothes isn't this bad, but beggars can't be choosers. At least they're clean and kind of match, even if they are 20 years out of date. Seriously, how long does this hospital keep their clothes? Deciding I'm as presentable as I'm going to be, I step out of the bathroom to the officer who is standing in the room with a wheelchair.

"I'm ready now," I tell him.

He motions to the chair, which he's already explained is hospital policy. Although some how I already knew that. After I sit down he wheels me downstairs and out of the hospital.

I'm not sure how I feel about this. Leaving the hospital seems like a step forward, a chance to get my life started. At the same time, there was something safe and reassuring about being in the hospital. Well, I guess it's too late to worry about it now, I decide sliding into the cruiser which the officer was nice enough to open for me.

He was bored, he decided as he absently drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. How long does it take to check someone out of the hospital? Finally, finally she appeared. His angel. His Beloved. Soon they would be together again. Although the officer with her was going to be a problem, albeit a small one. He waited patiently as the officer loaded her into the car then walked around and started climbed in himself.

He started his own car, counted to five, and then drove after them. He tailed them to a cheap motel just off the strip. It shouldn't be too hard to find out where she's staying, he thought, pulling the car into a space so he could watch the two-story buildings. With any luck she'd be staying on this side of the building and he wouldn't even have to deal with the desk clerk.

"Just the person I was looking for," Greg said as he stepped into the DNA lab. He waved the file in his hands towards Nick

"Does that mean you have something," Nick asked hopefully.

"Oh yeah, I tested our victims DNA to see if she was in the system. She wasn't; but I did get something. Turns out she's a match with our Jane Doe," he explained, a note of triumph in his voice. He held the file close to his chest and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"They're related?" Nick asked.

With a flourish, he handed the folder to Nick. "Yep, most likely sisters."

"Thanks Greg. You're the best," Nick threw over his shoulder as he hurried out of the lab.

I jump as the bedside phone rings and then laugh at my actions. I had been so absorbed in the television that I had tuned everything out, especially the officer sitting 10 feet away.

"Stay put," he orders then walks over to the phone. "Hello?" He listens for a while and I assume that it must be someone we can trust. Otherwise, he would have hung up a long time ago. "Yeah, we'll be here," he say finally and then hangs up.

"Who was that?" I asked curiously.

"Stokes from the Crime Lab. He says he has some photos for you to look at, may help with your memory," he explains.

"Oh," is all I can manage to say. I'm too busy trying to calm myself down. A chance to know who I am! I can't help but get excited. Although, it could turn out like the fingerprint thing and not be helpful at all.

The officer walks over to the window and opens it a crack so that he can see out. I'm assuming his looking for Nick's car.

He'd make his move today he decided. After watching the place most of the day, he was getting bored. He'd make her pay for escaping. He straightened in his seat, trying to work out the knots that had formed. He really should get out and take a walk; with the windows shut they wouldn't be able to see him. He reached for the door handle then stopped, as the officer's face appeared in the window. 'Well, that was new', he thought. Maybe I'll just sit tight a little longer.

About 15 minutes passed and the watcher automatically ducked down as the Tahoe swung into the parking lot. He stayed low and watched as the Tahoe parked a few spaces away and a CSI hopped out, a stack of papers in his hand. The CSI locked the car and then walked swiftly towards her room.

Nick walked up to the room quickly, glad he could finally give Jane some clues about her past. He didn't know why but he just couldn't let this case go. He wanted to give her her life back. He knocked on the door, which was opened almost immediately and nodded to the officer holding the door.

"I've got some new information for you," he announced, turning towards Jane.

"About me?" Jane asked hopefully.

"Yes, although unfortunately it's not all good news," he said, watching her physically prepare herself for the information. "Another body was discovered near where you were found."

'Jane' shifted on the bed. "How does that help me?" she asked.

"As part of the autopsy we took a DNA sample and when our lab tech ran it, it matched your DNA."

"What does that mean, that our DNA matched?" she asked, obviously confused. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself.

"It means that she's related to you. We think she's probably your sister," Nick finished, pulling several pictures out of his pocket. "Do you recognize her?" he asked showing them to her.

"Diana," she said softly.

"You remember her?" Nick asked hopefully.

"Kind of." She shifed uncomfortably and looked at the floor. "I looked at the pictures and got her name and a feeling of sadness that she was gone," she said laying the photos on the bed.

"Well, it's something," Nick said, trying to keep things positive. "I'll keep working, I promise."

"I know you will," 'Jane' said, giving him a sad smile.

"We were just talking about dinner. Do you want to stay and join us?" the officer asked, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Sounds good," Nick said, looking at his watch. "You stay put. I'll go down and get it. I have to secure this stuff anyway."

He took their orders and headed out the door to his car. He locked the evidence he'd brought up to show Jane into the car and turned around to head for the diner that was attached to the hotel. He got about halfway there when one of the cars caught his attention. There was mud splashed along the side panels and what looked like a branch wedged into the wheel well.

Curious, he moved towards the car, wanting to check it out. He approached cautiously but didn't see anyone in the car from this distance. Arriving at the car, he bent down next to the mud and branch on the passenger side. He took a few scrapings of the dirt just in case and gently removed the branch, careful to keep it intact. Suddenly, the car door swung open knocking him hard into the car parked in the next space.

Nick sat on the ground, trying to clear his head enough to stand when he heard someone approaching. He tried to look up when his head was slammed against the side of the car again.

He sighed; the CSI was just too curious for his own good. He couldn't leave him here now that he'd found the car. He roughly grabbed hold of the man's ankles and dragged him to the trunk of the car. He left him there for a moment while he retrieved the keys from the ignition. After unlocking the trunk, he bent down and dumped the CSI into it. Making sure no body parts were in the way, he slammed the trunk closed and then made his way up to the room he'd been watching all day.

I jump at the knock on the door, but the deputy just flashes me a smile.

"That'll be Stokes with dinner. I forgot to give him a key," he says as he walks to the door. He opens the door and then turns back to tell me something.

The door is flung open, hitting him in the chest and forcing him to stagger back.

"What the…." was all the deputy got out before the man in the doorway hit him over the head.

That was all the encouragement I needed. I headed for the bathroom and locked myself in. Not the smartest tactic I admit, but it served the purpose of getting a locked door between him and me. I sat down hard on the toilet, trying to decide what to do next. I hoped the deputy was okay but that didn't solve my problem, which was currently trying to beat down the door. I stood up and was suddenly hit with a wave of memories. I grabbed the sink to balance myself and suddenly it clicked. Who I was, who the man was, everything. I shuddered and stood there gasping for air. A bang on the door brought me back to my senses. I fought a wave of panic.

Think! You still need to get away from him! I began searching through the contents of the bathroom. There wasn't much there but what I found gave me an idea.

Sara rushed up the stairs to the room where the witness was staying and stopped just outside the door. She nodded to the officers standing there and then continued in. She carefully stepped around the paramedics who were treating a wounded officer, searching for any signs of where the witness had gone. She found plenty; the bathroom was covered in baby powder. Why Jane had gone for the baby powder, she couldn't figure out. She set down her kit and reached for her camera, snapping pictures of the bathroom. It struck her as odd that the struggle was contained to the bathroom. Why had she fought so hard in here and no where else? And where was Nick? The last she'd heard, he was bringing evidence over here. She repeated the question to the officer as the paramedics were finishing up.

"He went to get dinner and I haven't seen him since," he replied, holding his head with a groan.

She bit her lip, now worried more about Nick than the missing witness. Why did this sort of thing happened to Nick so frequently, she wondered.

"Where ever Jane is, that's probably where Nick is," Greg said as he entered the room. "I found blood on a car in the parking lot next to two evidence bags. I documented everything, but you might want to come take a look."

Sara nodded and followed him down the stairs.

"Why did you bring him here," I demand as he finishes tying the poor CSI up.

He throws me a dirty look as he rechecks the bonds. "What do you care?"

"He's practically a police officer, idiot! They'll come looking for him," I say. I don't care that my voice is harsh and that I sound like a shrill lunatic. This was not part of the plan!

"Are you sure that's the reason? You don't have feelings for him, do you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," I say, brushing off his concerns.

He throws me another look and I involuntarily take a step back. The man is dangerous, I remind myself. He watches me take a step back and instantly his expression softens.

"I'm sorry baby," he says and I have to force myself tosmile and not grimace. As much as I don't want him to touch me, at least I'm in control again.

"I know sweetie," I say reaching out to cup his face with my hand. "Let's just leave him here and go someplace they'll never find us."

He steps away from me and considers this for a moment, looking between the two of us. "No," he says simply. "He's tried to play the white knight once to often and I'm tired of him interfering in my plans."

"What are you planning?" I ask curiously. For as nice as dear Nick was, this might actually work out to my advantage.

"Nothing you need concern yourself with, my dear," he says gently. He's got that dopey, smitten look on his face. "Why don't you go fix us something to eat. I'll be along shortly."

"Anything you say," I say through gritted teeth. Imagine him ordering me around! I can't wait to be rid of him. Maybe I should be rid of him now; he's really crossed the line now. The police always come after one of their own. I glance back towards the room to see that he has closed the door. So he'll be occupied for a while. I look around and find the keys to the car parked outside. I rattle some pots and pans around in the kitchen so he won't get suspicious as I gather my few belongings and try to erase my presence. Then, quietly, I slip out the door and slide into the car.

"Las Vegas PD," Brass announced as the door swung open. He entered, cautiously scanning the room with his eyes and his gun. He glanced back and motioned the team forward. They entered and fanned out, each taking a separate room. Brass absently acknowledged their shouts of clear as he focused on the door at the end of the hallway. Motioning for Catherine to follow, he made his way down the hall.

Suddenly the door burst open and a man appeared in the hallway. He glanced around, saw Catherine and Jim and took off in the opposite direction. Brass immediately took off after him, shouting for back-up. Catherine took a step to follow but movement in the room the man emerged from caught her attention.

"Nick! Thank God," she said as she rushed to his side.

Nick looked up and she watched as he tried to focus. "Cath?"

"Yes, it's me. You're safe now," she said, resting her hand gently on his face and then reaching up to untie his hands. He hissed in pain as she released his wrists. She glanced down and forced herself not to shudder. His face was a mass of bruises to the point where she could barely recognize him.

"Can you sit up?" she asked, kneeling next to him.

"Yeah," Nick said and attempted to pull himself up.

At his exclamation of pain, she laid a hand on his shoulder and gently eased him back onto the mattress. "I think we'll just wait here for the paramedics," she said with a smile.

Nick nodded weakly and then closed his eyes as Cath took his hand.

Sara wandered into the break room to find Nick finishing off his lunch. He smiled as she entered.

"Hey, are you sure you should be back?" she asked, her voice full of concern.

"It's been two weeks and the doc cleared me," he responded. "I'll be working the easy cases for a while yet."

Sara nodded in approval. "Okay, let me know if you need anything," she said and the left the room only to appear a few seconds later. "I forgot, this just arrived for you."

He took the envelop she offered him and tore it open. Inside was a single piece of paper. He opened it and began to read. His mouth dropped open.

"What," Sara asked, alarmed at his expression. Whatever was in that letter couldn't possibly be good.

"I don't believe it," he said throwing the note onto the table and stomping out of the room.

Curious, Sara picked up the note and read it.

Dearest Nick,

Thank you so much for all your help. You'll be pleased to know that I finally regained my memory. It was so kind of you to get rid of that last problem for me. Really, I was at a loss as to how I was going to get rid of him; he was quite enamored with me. I hope he didn't hurt you too badly. I'm truly sorry about that; he wasn't supposed to take you. Don't bother trying to find me, just know that I'll never forget what you did.

Sincerely,

Jane