A/N: Please keep in mind, this is AU in a very different kind of way, as I'm sure you'll figure out after this chapter. And the family of Doc Robbins described within does not conform with canon. Again, please consider this as AU in that regard.

"Is she going to die?"

The voice is familiar… I know it… but I can't place it. It's dark, and for some reason that doesn't surprise me. I think about it a little more and I realize it's because my eyes are closed. This makes sense because I'm in a bed; I can feel its softness beneath me. Closing your eyes is something you do while in a bed.

"No, David. She isn't going to die. But we need to be very careful with her. Head injuries can be dangerous if not treated with respect. Hand me a cloth from near the basin, please. A fresh one, not the one we've been using."

I know that voice too.

"Yessir."

I hear the sounds of someone scuffing along the floor. The floor sounds different, dirty. This seems odd to me – why would the floor be dirty where these people are? It is like it shouldn't be so. I attempt to open my eyes and the pain is blinding.

"Easy, Miss Sidle. Easy now. You've suffered a concussion; trauma to your brain. Do you understand?"

"…yehhsss…" My throat feels like I've drowned in a sand dune - I can't speak. Panic seizes me and I gasp instinctively. A cool trickle reaches my lips and I lick and swallow. That seems to work so I try to relax a bit. I feel the hand touching my hair softly, taking solace in its comfort. Someone is caring for me; I will be okay.

"Are you okay, Miss Sidle? My goodness, ma'am, are you okay?" This is the first voice, younger than the second, full of concern. I know these voices, but their names elude me still. When I try to remember, a sharp pain stabs my head and white dots flash before my eyes.

"David!" the older voice orders, "Please give her some room. Let her come around on her own time."

Yes! That's the name. David.

"Yessir. Sorry, Doc."

This makes sense. I know a David who works with a doctor. The doctor's name is still a mystery but the scenario is familiar.

The Doc continues to offer me sips of water, speaking to me softly. I am not to raise my head or open my eyes until he tells me so. I am to answer the questions he is asking me. I tell him my name is Sara Sidle and this seems to be the proper response. I tell him my age and that also seems to be the proper response. But when I tell him my birth date, there is silence.

"Is that wrong?" I ask, my voice akin to a child's.

"Just rest a bit, Miss Sidle," the Doc says reassuringly. "I will be right back. David, try to keep her awake for as long as you can."

I hear the scrape of the Doc's shoes along the floor that should not be so noisy. I drift in and out as David prattles on incessantly and pokes me periodically. He's through sharing his life's history with me and has moved on to telling me some nonsense about a festival when the Doc returns.

"Miss Sidle, you can open your eyes now."

I do so, and it takes a while for me to focus. I'm in a bed, like I thought, but I'm not in a hospital. At least, not a hospital I'm familiar with. I recognize David. Phillips is his last name, and the Doc is named Al. Al Robbins. I know these people. But my surroundings are strange.

"Do you know where you are?" Doc Robbins voice is kind, calm. I have a new appreciation for him and his bedside manner. For some reason, I didn't think he would be good with people, and now I'm not sure why.

I turn my head to face them, catching my first full glimpse of a very concerned David with strange glasses perched on his nose. "Not really."

"Do you know who we are?"

"Yes," I reply confidently. "And I know who I am. I am Sara Sidle…" Something should come after that. I have a title or something. But… it's like where the words should be… there's nothing.

"I have amnesia," I state.

"Yes," Robbins nods. "I'm afraid you do."

It's then I notice his crutches. They're wood, which rings wrong to me. For some reason, my mind remembers them as shiny and metallic. And this room, most everything is soft and homey, where I expected cold and utilitarian. The lighting is provided naturally from the sun outside; the furniture is sparse and simple. White linen curtains and white bedding on my bed. The lamp sitting on the bed stand nearby is fueled by oil, its wick dark and short with use. Next to it rests an old-fashioned Bible, the silk ribbon dangling over the side of the stand.

"This isn't right," I say.

"It probably doesn't seem right, m'dear, but it is. You are in the settlement of Nelson, near the Techatticup Mine. You live here - with me, Ann and David. You are a registered nurse of The Union, Yankee-born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts. Does any of that sound familiar?"

My mind is spinning and I put my hands to my head. Doc Robbins touches my shoulder gently. "It will come back to you, dear. Just rest here for the evening and I'll have Annie bring you something to sup' later."

I lay back against the pillows, noticing they are full of soft feathers. I look down, blinking at my own attire in surprise. I'm wearing some type of nightgown, soft and somewhat threadbare. It's a shift. I'm wearing a shift. What the hell am I doing in a shift?

My head aches. I reach up and touch the focal point of the pain with a wince. Yup, there's a nice bump there.

So, I have amnesia. I remember nothing about where I am, or what happened to cause the lovely lump on my noggin. Isn't this just my luck.

Time passes as I watch the sun travel across the wooden floor of my room. I must have drifted off again, because the next thing I know, an older woman who's dressed like she just walked off the frontier comes into the room. I don't recognize her and she knows it, but she smiles at me kindly as she brings a tray over. There's a fresh-baked roll of sorts and a clear soup loaded with root vegetables. It seems I eat this sort of thing as my stomach rumbles at the sight of it.

It isn't bad, and the older woman, Annie, watches me like a hawk until I've eaten every last spoonful. This apparently makes her happy, because she nods in approval when I'm finished. "I'll fix you up a cup of tea in a bit. My own blend; has magnolia in it. You just rest there and let your supper settle in. That's a special broth I made, 'twill clear your mind up rightly by the morn. Right as rain, you'll be. Right as rain."

I sincerely doubted that, but I nod politely at her. I don't remember much else, as whatever she put in that soup knocked me out for the next twelve hours. Which was disappointing, because I was curious about that tea.

oooooooooooo

I wake the next day to the sounds and smells of breakfast. The day has started without me. Rising from my bed, I yelp as my bare feet touch the cold floor. Who knew oak could be so damned cold? I look around and find a well-worn pair of sandals tucked underneath the ruffle of the bed. Slipping them on requires a little effort; I seem to be rather wobbly. But I get them on and head towards the source of the noise and the smells.

My appearance is apparently unexpected as both Doc Robbins and David gape at me while Annie jumps up like a snake bit her ass. "Miss Sara! Good heavens! We mustn't have you out and about like this. Let's go and get you more suited for the day, shall we?"

She hustles me back into my bedroom. With a harsh tone, she explains how it isn't proper for ladies to be seen in their shifts. I find this interesting since Doc Robbins and David had clearly cared for me while I was in said shift. But that is irrelevant to her as she fusses with my hair, using a large handled ornate brush and her own fingers to comb through the snarls. She then outfits me in a different shift, a thin white shirt with a full collar and long, puffy sleeves, and a drab-colored skirt that just brushed the tops of my feet. I have no idea why I tolerate this, but I do. I did draw the line when she wanted to cinch me up in a corset. This led her to claim that her soup is clearly working and I would be back to my old self in no time. I personally was glad to learn that the Sara before me wouldn't wear such nonsense either.

Annie walks me back to the main dining area and goes through some formality to re-introduce me to Doc Robbins and David. They both smile, nodding politely as if all is normal and well in the world. But no one is fooled; we all know it is not. I help myself to some of Annie's griddlecakes but shy away from the bacon and sausage. For some reason, the meat does not appeal to me. This didn't seem to be out of the ordinary, as Annie pours me a cup of some type of tea as well as a small glass of juice. Apple, I think. We all eat in semi-silence, my lack of memory ruining any chance of conversation.

I finally break the stasis after my last bite of griddlecake. "Where did you find me?"

This is apparently the money maker question of the day as everyone at the table suddenly looks extremely uncomfortable.

David finally replies. "A friend brought you to us, ma'am. He claimed he found you down by the mine and was a'feared of what might become you down there. The men of the mine, and all."

"A friend... Does this friend have a name?" I'm curious about what happened to me, and why I was found in a place where I apparently never should have been.

"Uh… ma'am?" David is deliberately vague and both Annie and Al are giving him sharp looks.

"A name," I repeat. "Who rescued me from this fate worse than death?"

Annie settles herself in her chair, her gaze sharp and direct. "El Vaquero de la Noche brought you here, hun."

By their expressions, this is supposed to have some impact on me, but I'll be damned if I know what it is. "Who's he?"

They all look at each other blankly before Al murmurs quietly, "Amnesia."

Annie again takes it upon herself to educate me. "He's… well, he's as his name says, a man of the night. Some folks reckon he's the local version of Robin Hood, watching over us and makin' sure the peace is kept. Others say he's a bandit and a scoundrel that'll steal your claim and your wife without more than a backwards glance. And then there's some," she says pointedly at me, "that are quite sure he's a rebel outlaw and a murderer."

"Some… meaning me," I state.

Al and Annie give a slight nod as David replies solemnly, "Yes'm Miss Sara."

"Would you mind telling me who I think this El Vaquero murdered?"

"Ma'am, he murdered your brother."