You'll Escape The Hands Of Time

When I woke up, I had a splitting headache. That wasn't really all that surprising given the amount of alcohol I had consumed. But the tacky blood on the back of my head was definitely bewildering. It was also the reason I was slow and extra cautious when I stood up. I was subconsciously worried that if I moved too fast that I would get hit with an overwhelming urge to vomit.

I probably should have been more concerned about the blood on the back of my head and how I got that wound. For some reason my mind never focused on the fact that someone who had already knocked me out once could have still been inside the cabin. I'm not sure why that happened. Maybe that concern was too abstract. Or maybe it was that weird phenomenon where you woke up obsessed with the last thought that was on your mind when you blacked out.

Whatever the real reason, I suddenly found myself in a near panic while I looked for my dad. I was moving as quickly as my head would allow me, which really wasn't all that fast at all. I was once again using the wall as a crutch as I made my way to the living room. When I made it to the doorway of the large room, my knees nearly buckled, and I almost collapsed when they tried to give out on me.

"Daddy?" I questioned as I feel to my knees beside him. Okay, really, I just gave in and let myself collapse, but that's just semantics. "Daddy? DAD! Wake up! Dad, wake up!"

That's when I noticed the blood on his face. I picked up his head and placed it on my lap while I tried to clean the drying blood under his nose with the bottom of my shirt. I know it's ridiculous, but it seemed really important to me that I got him cleaned up the best that I could right then.

"Dad, what happened?" I asked expecting him to wake up and answer me. "Who did this to us? Shh… Don't worry, I'll get you some help."

I crawled over to the table with the landline phone on it. After I picked up the receiver, I immediately noticed that I couldn't hear any sound coming from it. I tapped rapidly on the buttons to hang up the line hoping to get a dial tone, but I still heard nothing but the faint hum of ringing in my ears. I moved up to my knees to look for Dad's cell phone, but it was nowhere to be seen. When I used the table to help me stand up, my toe hit something hard. I leaned down to pick it up and realized that it was Dad's phone. Or rater what was left of it because it looked like someone had stomped on it with a booted foot. (Yes, I had seen a few phones the guys had stomped on as a punishment when I was younger.)

"Shit. Hang on, Dad. I'll go get help. Just hang tight, I shouldn't be long."

I grabbed my hoody from the back of the chair I had been sitting on the night before. I didn't look for my keys because there was no way I would be able to keep my bike upright when I was feeling like this. Dad had an old Junker he kept up here in case he wasn't able to ride his bike to get somewhere like driving his five year old daughter to the hospital when she fell off the roof in a game of hide and go seek that ended with me breaking my leg. Opie felt so guilty that he became my personal valet until the cast came off. Mom was so unimpressed when she picked us up that she didn't speak to or about Dad for nearly three months. It was also the car that Opie, Jax and I had used to learn how to drive. Dad and Clay had a running joke about who put what dent where and how they were done. It REALLY sucked when Opie and Jax joined in the chorus because I had NEVER even scratched that stupid thing, let alone dented it… But enough about that.

After I slipped in behind the wheel, I pulled the glove box open to pluck out the keys. I couldn't really remember where the closest hospital or police station was located, but I was confident that once I was on the highway, I could just follow the signs until I found one. Sounds really simple in theory, not so much in practice.

As I embarked on my search, my vision started to blur. I don't know if it was the alcohol my body was still metabolizing or if I now was feeling the effects of the concussion from the blow I took to the back of the head was to blame. I tried to just ignore it, but my body had different plans.

I tried my best to keep the car in my lane, but my vision started to fail me completely. At first, I was seeing the road through blurred vision but that thankfully cleared up… Temporarily. As son as my vision became clearer, it immediately started to narrow. It was like driving through a narrow tunnel, but as I continued down the road, that tunnel vision began to close up even more until finally I saw nothing but pure blackness.

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"Ma'am? Ma'am? Are you okay?" The motorist that came across the old Buick Continental that had "plowed into a tree on the side of the highway reached inside to check the vitals of the driver. Before he could reach a pulse point, he felt a couple of soft breaths against his skin. After saying a quick, silent prayer of thanks, he turned towards his own vehicle to call out, "Reagan! Call 911! We need an ambulance!"

The young girl sitting in the pickup truck didn't question her dad, she just pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911.

"911… What's your emergency?"

"There's been an accident. My dad says she needs an ambulance."

"She?"

"Sorry. The driver of the car. I don't know her injuries, but her car's all smashed up and it looks really bad."

"How many cars are involved?"

"Just one. It looks like she lost control and hit a tree."

"Do you know how many patients there are?"

Reagan watched her dad for a couple of seconds before she answered, "I think just one. My dad hasn't moved from the driver's window, so I think she's the only one in the car. But… But I don't know for sure."

"That's okay, Sweetheart. You're doing great. Now… Can you tell me where you are?"

Reagan's father is an avid hunter who had taught her the importance of being observant. He would quiz her about everything from the vehicle driving behind them to the exit they had just passed when they were driving on the highway. She always thought they were just fun games to help keep them awake when her baseball games went into extra innings, but now she was starting to understand their true meaning and it all made more sense to her.

Her dad only returned to the truck when he saw the emergency lights approaching from far off in the distance. "How are you holding up, Champ?"

"I'm okay Dad. How's…? Is…?"

He hugged his daughter answering, "She's in rough shape. But hopefully the paramedics and doctors can help her once she gets to a hospital."

As the emergency vehicles approached, he moved to the side of the road to flag them down. The firefighters were the first ones on scene to assess the situation. They ensured that the car was safe for the paramedics to work. Not far behind them was the California Highway Patrol. They took the good Samaritan's attention from the driver being pulled from the vehicle to have their questions about what he knew about the accident answered.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much to be learned from the father and daughter, so they were quickly sent on their way. The highway patrolmen then turned their full attention to the vehicle itself. The driver had no purse or wallet that anyone could see, so right now she was simply known as 'Jane Doe'. The glovebox was empty and a thorough search of the car yielded no registration or personal papers of any sort. To add to their frustration, there were no license plates or insurance tags on the vehicle either.

They then started looking for a VIN number, but that search was just as fruitless as their previous ones. The one that was usually visible through the windshield was so rusted that it just looked like a worn-out piece of metal. There was usually a decal on the driver's door, but it had completely disappeared. In the majority of the officers' opinion, it looked like they had just disintegrated over time from the car being neglected. None of them thought that they had been removed deliberately.

The hope was that once it was towed to a Forensic storage garage with better lighting that they would find something helpful. If nothing else, they could make sure that they had recorded the proper description of the vehicle in their report and database in case this car was reported stolen or was revealed to be associated to a missing person's case.

In that same vein, an officer followed the ambulance to the hospital to see if the patient could yield any clues. It's amazing the things people could tell you without saying a word. For this Jane Doe, it was her tattoos that they hoped would be the biggest and most helpful clues. There aren't many people who would go out and get the Anarchist symbol tattooed on them. Well, not many law-abiding citizens that is. So, they focused on the tattoo on her back to commence their new search. But just like every other avenue of investigation, it yielded zero results. They then added the crow tattoo on her inner left forearm to the search engine, but that wasn't any help. They then made sure to take pictures of both in case they had to be used in a press release. Although, they were really hoping that it wouldn't come down to that.

The patient was rushed into surgery because a CT scan showed bleeding and swelling in her brain. The car accident was quite severe and treacherous, but it didn't appear to the cause of the trauma to her head. The compound fracture of her left forearm, yes, but the head wound didn't mesh. The majority of the trauma was to the back of her skull and looked like it was the result of a blow with a blunt object. It didn't take a Forensics' expert to deduce that a head on collision with a tree would cause damage to the forehead, not what they were seeing now.

Not that the doctors were focused on that fact. All they were concerned with was stopping the bleeding and swelling on their patient's brain. The surgery went relatively well. They found the problem easily on the CT scans, so they knew where to focus their efforts, but surgery on an unconscious patient was always tricky. There were a couple of times during the operation that her breathing became so shallow and her heart rate slowed to the point that she almost flat-lined.

ALMOST.

By the time they were stapling the suture wound closed, her vitals had vastly improved. They all hoped that after the usual waiting period that she would wake up and be able to answer all of their lingering questions. Sure, that was an overly optimistic view, but in their line of work it didn't hurt to hold onto some hope every once in a while.

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Every member of SAMCRO standing around the bar in the clubhouse looked beaten. Some physically, but all of them emotionally and spiritually. They lifted a shot glass in memory of Kozik (who had stepped on a land mine and perished earlier that day) and to Luanne. They finally had the truth about her murder.

As they all fell into their own thoughts, Opie moved closer to Happy's side to quietly ask, "Hey? Have you talked with Drea recently?"

Happy shook his head. "No. But… She left me a message saying that she was going to spend some time with your dad at the cabin. She warned me that alcohol induced comas were expected and cell service could be spotty, so I haven't tried getting a hold of her. Why? Is something wrong?"

Opie chuckled and shook his head. "No, now that you've reminded me, she… She's probably sleeping off another visit with Johnnie Walker."

Happy smirked then gave Opie a pointed look. That caused the younger man to bark out a laugh and say, "I guess it just hit me that Drea and I haven't gone this long without at least a short phone call since I got out."

The look on Happy's face softened before he asked, "So that makes you worry about her?"

"No," Opie replied with another shake of the head. "I guess… I… I just miss her. I forgot how much she helps to ground me."

Happy passed Opie another shot of tequila then raised his own in a toast replying, "I hear that, Brother."

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When I woke up the room was too bright and smelled so sterile I could gag. My eyes slammed shut, which seemed to amuse the person who was adjusting the position of the oversized needle in my arm.

"I'll dim the light for you," she offered as I heard her step away.

She walked around the room, but all that I could hear were her footsteps. That was until I heard the sound of the curtains being closed tight. I guess she wasn't just dimming the overhead lights. That… that was nice of her.

"Alright, Ms. Doe, it should be more comfortable for you to open your eyes."

"That's not my name," I snapped out as my eyes flew open.

She held up her hands in a sign of surrender then said, "I'm sorry. We couldn't find any ID and… well… What is your name?"

"It's… I'm…" I stopped then thought about it for a second. "My name is… uh… I'm… I… I don't… don't…"

Before I could totally break down, the nurse moved to my side to try to calm me down. She gripped my shoulder to force me to make very direct eye contact until my breathing finally started to even out.

"After everything you've been through, it isn't a total surprise. I'll go get your doctor… He'll be able to explain everything better than I can. Try to drink some water… Slowly. I'll be right back."

While I waited, I took a long drink through the straw in my plastic cup. Almost immediately I started to choke on it and coughed until nearly all of it ended up on the front of my hospital gown. Fuck. She said slowly. I guess that mean smaller sips.

The nurse returned with the doctor and looked like she was trying not to laugh. Great. I guess that meant that I wasn't the only idiot to do something that stupid. And she came back prepared. Before I could say or do anything, she draped a thick towel over my chest.

"Slowly means small sips. I'll get you another glass," she commented before she turned to leave the room.

That's when I finally noticed the man standing at the foot of the hospital bed. He kept his eyes on what I figured was my chart as he said, "Ms. Doe…"

"That's not my name," I interrupted with an annoyed bite.

That got him to look up from the paperwork to respond, "No, it isn't, but you haven't been able to tell us anything to the contrary. So? Would you like to enlighten to me now?"

"My name's… It's…" I scowled and took in a deep breath before I answered, "Andie… Andie Griffin."

"Andy Griffith? Like that old TV show?" The nurse asked as she carried a fresh glass of water to me.

I shook my head then said, "No. But… But I think that's a running joke."

"Griffin? That's your family name?" The doctor asked.

Again, I shook my head as I answered, "No… I mean… I don't think so. But… But, I… I don't know."

"Miss Andie, that's okay," the doctor replied with a soft smile on his face. "That's more than I expected after everything you've been through. It's also very encouraging progress."

He then went on to explain how I ended up in the hospital. I was in a car accident, but the head injury didn't appear to be a result of that. Rather, the accident seemed to have been caused by the head injury. It was so severe that they had to do emergency surgery to save me and my brain. Okay, he didn't say it like that, but that's how I understood it. I unconsciously moved my hand to the back of my head to touch the staples to confirm everything that he was saying to me.

"We had to shave it for the surgery," he explained unnecessarily.

I just shrugged then said, "It's just hair. It'll grow back."

I swear that almost coaxed a laugh out of him. "That's very true. Alright, you should rest. I believe the police will want to talk with you now that you're awake. Hopefully we'll be able to fill in some blanks now that you're awake and have given us your name."

"Okay. But… I don't really remember anything."

"That's alright. Don't try to force it. If you don't know an answer, that's fine. All we need right now is honesty."

"Okay," I answered. "Can I ask a question?"

The doctor froze mid-step to turn to face me. "Of course. Please, ask your question, Miss Andie."

"Is there any chance someone can shave the rest of my head? I haven't looked in a mirror, but I have a feeling that a reverse mullet isn't my style."

Wow. I think I turned into a comedian. The doctor and nurse laughed then she answered, "That can definitely be arranged."