CHAPTER 4
Caitlin was awkwardly silent. She had spent the last three weeks talking, hoping, and praying that he would make it, and now things were looking up a little, but he didn't remember anything - who he was, who she was, his job, his life, or even how he'd gotten in the hospital in the first place. Now that she'd explained what she knew about the explosion, little as it may be, she didn't really know what to say.
"Do you want me to send in the others?"
"Others?"
"You know, Dom and Saint John."
Actually he didn't know, or at least didn't remember but what could it hurt?
"Sure."
She smiled and turned to leave.
"Wait a minute."
She paused.
"Um, what is your name?" He hated having to ask but he needed to start matching names to faces if he was ever going to assimilate this all together.
"Caitlin," she said.
Deputy Caitlin, he mentally finished, the words just coming naturally although he didn't know why.
"Caitlin O'Shaunessey Hawke."
\A/
Saint John waited outside the door while the doctor finished his diagnosis, hopefully a good one.
Stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him, the doctor met the older Hawke face to face.
"He's got a broken rib and some pretty nasty bruises, but probably no lasting damage from the smoke inhalation. All things considered, he is doing remarkably well, and assuming there aren't any latent infections or complications, with some rest he should be good as new. I don't think he would be here for me to say this though if it weren't for that mysterious hero. You really should be thankful that other guy risked his life; otherwise, I'm not so sure Le would be here today."
"Believe me, I'm grateful, eternally gratefully, I just hope String doesn't die for it."
"String? You know him?" the doctor asked in surprise.
"Yeah, he's a floor up in the ICU and he's my brother."
Caitlin came hurrying down the hallway, uncaring about the glares she was receiving from the nurses down the hall.
"Saint John, he's awake!"
"String?" he asked even as he joined her. Of course it was String, who else would it be?
\A/
"String," Saint John greeted, a sappy smile plastered to his face, "glad to see you awake."
"Wish I could say the same," he muttered back. "I'm not sure it is much of an improvement."
"Well I think it is. You'll be out of here in no time and back home."
Home - home sounded good, but what exactly was home? He could almost envision it, but it stubbornly refused to stay just out of reach. Everything seemed so familiar yet so far away, so alien and strange. It was so frustrating to see all theses people, people that obviously loved and cared, but he couldn't remember any of them. If only he knew somebody…
He couldn't even remember himself, but he did know that he was surrounded by friends, friends that would do anything within their power, and even to stretch the limits, to do anything that they could to help him.