Chapter Eleven

"Jim, anything said in this room is completely confidential." Allan looked closely at Jim's face, there was more than surface embarrassment here, but it wasn't grief, a better memory to dive into. "What are you remembering?"

"We must have… had an affair. But, she's my partner, I wouldn't…" Jim's memories surfaced, Allan could see the progression on his face. "Christmas, it was just after Christmas. I was alone, she was lonely, we… It was good. Unplanned." Jim was quiet for a long time. Galloway watched his eyes scan back and forth as he retrieved and examined memories faster than he could talk. Galloway waited as he'd done with patients before. It was like a computer doing a download, you could only wait and watch and be ready when it was available to view.

Finally Jim turned back to the doc, a grin trying to emerge on his face. "I'm good. I remember. I remember a lot."

"Okay, tell me some."

"She's a great partner. She's tough, relentless, and there's no one I'd rather have my back than her." His brows furrowed. "Okay, okay, I'm remembering some arguments. She's upset, I can hear it in her voice, and I'm angry, cold angry, you know?"

"Distancing yourself?"

"Yes, and telling her that if she can't-" Jim cut himself off. He lay very still for a long time. Allan waited. Jim squirmed, like a child refusing medicine, then sighed, shook his head and spoke very quietly. "I'm telling her that if she can't guide me properly, I'd rather go it alone. I'd rather use my cane. There's nothing, no image, no light. I can hear her voice, the footsteps of people in the street cars, going past, I can smell the car fumes, but I can't see, and I'm not even thinking about it, all I want is to get inside and do the interview. It feels…usual." Again he was quiet for a while, digesting, accepting.

Allan waited.

Jim reached to his knee, rubbing it as he remembered. After a while he said, "I think she walked me into something on a street."

A weak smile managed to break through. "I remember thinking, I can do this now, and I can do it with you as a partner or without." He dropped into silence again for a long time.

Over the next fifteen minutes Allan brought Jim closer and closer to the present, not allowing him into any more heavy memories. Finally he brought the session to a close. "…fully awake."

"So, Jim, what do you know now?"

"I am a cop, and being blind, it's just an inconvenience. A fucking big pain in the ass one, but it hasn't stopped me."

"You ready to go home?"

"Oh yeah, the food here is awful."

Allan laughed. "I'll go talk to the doctor. Paperwork will take a while. You should rest, that was hard work." He said as Jim yawned.

"Thanks, Doc." Jim held out his hand.

Allan took it and enveloped it in both his own. "You're welcome, Detective."

Karen arrived at the discharge desk, breathless. "Detective Dunbar, room 24, he hasn't left yet has he?"

"Oh, his paper work is done. The OC was assigned to take him home. I think you just missed them."

Karen's shoulders dropped. She knew he'd hate going home with a stranger. When she'd gotten the call from Dr. Galloway, she'd phoned the hospital and said she'd pick him up. She turned away, well I guess I'm a stranger too. The thought was depressing but unavoidable. She wondered if she'd ever get her partner back, or if she was just fighting uselessly for a partnership that had already ended.

Something drew her attention around the corner, two people standing near a payphone. A robust woman in her fifties, grey hair and with her hands on her hips, trying to stare down the man who stood in front of her.

"No, I'd like to make a call first."

"It's very late to be calling people," a woman argued.

"Just take me to a phone." Jim sounded exasperated. "Please." He added, still managing to sound like he was issuing an order.

Karen grinned and walked up.

"Hey, Jim."

His head rose up and his eyes searched, the frown deepening on his face.

"It's me, Karen."

Jim nodded, the relief on his face was clear and Karen felt her heart lift.

"Hi, I'm Karen Bettancourt, Jim's partner." Karen gave a charming smile to the fifty something woman who held onto Jim's arm as if she were going to drag him home whether he wanted to go or not.

"Partner?"

Jim stepped into the gap between them. His hand brushed her breast as he reached for her arm and she gave the woman another smile, cocked her head and giggled. "Need a lift, Jimmy?"

"Thanks, Beverly, see, I'll be fine from here, really."

"But the doctor said I was to make sure you were okay on your own."

"No need for that." Karen made big round eyes and gazed adoringly at Jim.

"Oh, right, I see, I thought…"

"Night." Jim turned Karen away from the woman. "Can we get outa here?" he whispered.

In the elevator, they burst out laughing. "Oh, that was close." Jim said. "She even mentioned she might have to stay with me if I couldn't 'get along' on my own."

"Ew. That is a gross thought."

"Who were you going to call?"

"You," Jim said. "I thought I'd ask you for a ride so I didn't have to let her into my apartment."

"Now, that's the sort of team work we do," she said happily.

When the elevator doors opened, and she felt the familiar push as he started to move forward, her arm in his hand. Waves of emotion washed over her. She'd been waiting for some sign of affection from him since he'd woken the day before, and now, as small as it was, his hand around her arm set off a tingling throughout her body. She put her hand on his, her voice small and unsure. "So, you alright with this now?"

"Sure," he nodded. "A lot has come back since I saw you last. And thanks for having my back there."

"It's a pleasure to return the favor, Jim." They headed for the car where Hank waited.

They remained in their own worlds on the drive over to DUMBO. Karen tried to sort her emotions, to shove the unwanted ones away, and focus on how glad she was to have her partner back. He seemed deep in thought. Every now and then Hank would poke his head over the seat and Jim would jump. In some ways, Karen found it saddest of all that he had no memories of the dog. People would understand, not take it personally, but Hank? To him it was as if his best friend suddenly disliked him.

At his apartment door, she opened it, handed him his keys and cleared every room before allowing him in. Logically she knew Marybeth was behind bars again, but she wasn't taking any chances. "It's clear. Come on in."

Jim entered and put the keys on the stand in front of the door. Hank loped in and went straight to the kitchen where he sat patiently in front of the fridge.

Jim took a couple of steps inside and stopped.

"Do you need me to show you around the place?" Karen asked, feeling uncomfortable all over again.

Jim cocked his head to the right. He pointed to the left, "Kitchen, beyond that …" He shook his head and pursed his lips in distaste, "four steps left and the door to the bedroom is on the right." He stepped into the room. "There's a support here" He put his hand on the steel pole near the dinning table. "And here past the couch." He was a foot or so off, reached out and found it. "When I first came back from rehab, and kept bumping into it, Christie used to say she saw it move. She taped padding around it." He found a spot at about head height where the paint was chipped and fingered it.

Sadness filled his face, then the tide shifted. He turned confidently toward the kitchen. "How about coffee?" He opened a cupboard and took out the coffee jar. Karen raised her eyes upward, giving thanks that he hadn't forgotten how to make coffee.

"That'd be great but didn't the doctor say you needed to sleep?"

"Sleep? Feels like morning to me."

Karen relented. Jim made good coffee and God knew she could use a cup. All this memory stuff was dragging her emotions around too. To see Jim so vulnerable was strange, and strangely comforting. They'd been partners for over three years now and more often than not he'd kept her out of his personal life, not shown much emotion. When they'd been together, for that short while, she'd gotten a glimpse, and the man in front of her reminded her more of what she had loved in him than she cared to admit.

She thought of her chat with Ann earlier in the day. She'd phoned her friend when Jim had been found and explained everything, including his condition. Ann had been worried, mostly about how Karen was coping. Karen had unloaded all her feelings about what was happening and about how Jim was finding out he was blind as if it were brand new. Ann had said something strange. "Pity you two aren't together any more. I bet Jim needs someone to hold him like never before. And you could probably do with that too." Karen looked at Jim as he stood, sipping coffee and wondered if perhaps…

Hank whined from in front of the fridge, dragging Karen's thoughts back to the present. Jim appeared not to notice the poor dog. "Ah, Jim, you have to feed Hank. He probably hasn't hand anything since Thursday night."

"Okay," Jim turned. "I don't suppose you happen to know what she eats?"

"Yeah," Karen opened the fridge door. "Come here," Jim went over and she placed his hand on the food. "Hank's food is always on the bottom shelf, you prepare it once a week and he get's a tub each night."

Jim fingered the tubs. There were three. Karen had said she couldn't get the dog to eat, so Fido must be pretty hungry. He pulled out two, shut the fridge door, and pulled the lids off. He placed the tubs on the floor and waited. Hank sat and looked up at Jim who turned his head. "She's not eating. You sure these are the right ones?"

"Yeah. You have to give him the eat command." Karen waited, hoping his memory would trigger on its own. Finally he shrugged. "You can eat it, Fido."

Hank squirmed, drool began to drip from his muzzle and he looked from Jim to Karen and back.

"Tell him SUP." Karen copied the intonation she'd heard Jim use. "And you better stop calling him Fido, he's very confused.

Jim didn't mention he'd thought Hank was a female dog. "Sup," Jim said. Before the word was fully out of his mouth, Hank was scoffing the contents of the two bowls. He finished in just under a minute and looked adoringly at Jim before plodding off toward the bedroom. Jim found the bowls and lifted them into the sink with obvious distaste.

"Will you remember to take him for a walk before you go to bed?"

"A walk?" Jim was surprised. "Can't he wait until morning?"

Karen rolled her eyes. "No, he's a guide dog, Jim. He has set routines and a very controlled schedule."

Jim shook his head, Fido had been welcome company at the dump, but now, Jim just wanted to get back to some kind of normal, and looking after a dog wasn't his idea of life. He turned back to the coffee which gurgled and beeped, indicating it was done. He opened a cupboard door and pulled out two mugs. "You wanna get the milk?"

Karen put it in his waiting hand and watched as he poured just the right amount into one mug and then held the milk out for her to put back in the fridge. He remembered how she liked her coffee, and his. "Thanks. There's cake in the fridge, can I have some?"

"Yes, of course, chocolate. It's good. You'll like it. Hey, Marty likes chocolate cake right?'

"Yeah," Karen chuckled, "It's amazing you remember something useless like what sort of cake Marty likes but not that you gotta walk the dog. Go figure?"

Jim walked back to the front door. In the corner, beside the hall stand, he put his hand on a long white cane. He nodded. "There's a park down the street, a block to the left?"

"Yep." It was the closest, the one he usually took Hank to at night. Karen suddenly realized Hank had no harness. "Do you have a spare harness?"

An image came to mind of a yellow lab with a leather harness. Jim shrugged, "I don't know. I don't think I know how to use it now anyway. But you say she's been here for a few years?"

"Yeah, about four."

"Well, she probably knows the way then. I'll manage." After all, he thought, we managed at the dump.

Karen eyed Jim, unsure. His brow furrowed as he ran his hand down the length of the cane. She was pretty sure he didn't know how to use it. No, she'd take them both to the park, and bring them safely back here this time.

She turned back toward the kitchen to put her mug on the island and bumped into Jim who had stepped up to the counter at the same time.

"Sorry, I…" She tried to move out of the way but with the island in front of her, and him behind, she was trapped.