oOo

Louise had had restless night that had somehow seamlessly blended into morning. It hadn't been so much the pain that had disturbed her sleep, but rather the revelations of the previous day. And when she had been able to drift off, her dreams had been filled with strange images, face she couldn't place and events she couldn't remember, should they have really happened. Louise didn't frighten easily and had seen her share of dangers, but her current situation filled her with unease. Though she had always prided herself on her independence, she had never felt as alone as she felt right now and it scared her. In her waking moments which never seemed to last very long and only too often alternated with restless sleep, she wondered what would become of her. Granted, she was married now, but what if her husband didn't feel like taking care of an invalid wife? A wife who didn't remember him or their times together, or even knew as much as his first name? He was a complete stranger to her and hadn't it been for the nurse's chance comment, Louise wouldn't even have known that he was her husband. There were so many things she didn't know about her own life and it felt like merely thinking about those unanswered questions, made her head hurt worse. It was as if she had woken one morning to a world gone mad, a world filled with strangers claiming to know things about her that were completely foreign to her.

Adding pain to her insecurities and fears only made it all worse, pushing her further over the edge and into panic. Every slight movement, such as nodding her head or turning it, triggered a wave of agonizing pain that threatened to bring tears to her eyes. Lying as still as possible was the only way she could have some respite. So she was lying with here eyes closed and her mind drifting near the edges of unconsciousness when she became aware of voices nearby.

"Mr Temple!" a female voice was saying. She sounded quite young, maybe one of the nurses. "I'm afraid your wife is asleep right now, sir."

"That's all right. I'll just sit with her for a while then,"

"Of course, sir. Shall I tell Dr. Daystrom that you are here?"

"If he isn't too busy, yes. I'd like to have a word with him," a man replied, most likely Mr Temple. Or rather, her husband, Louise corrected herself mentally. She listened as footfalls came closer, then stopped. They were followed by a scratching noise she couldn't place and then silence. Louise briefly wondered if she shouldn't open her eyes, but the thought of a confrontation with the stranger and the many unanswered questions associated with him only made her want to flee deeper into the realms of sleep and unconsciousness.

oOo

Paul was secretly glad that Steve wasn't awake. It wasn't that he didn't know what to say to her. On the contrary there was so much he'd never had a chance to say. He'd never worn his heart on his sleeve and talking about his feeling for her didn't come naturally to him, but now he regretted his reticence. The trouble was though, the the woman lying in the bed wasn't Steve. She was the same person of course from a purely technical point of view, but to him, there was a world of a difference between the two, so much so that he'd mentally started to refer to her as Louise, and not Steve. Steve, for all intents and purposes, was gone.

"Listen, Steve. I know it's too late now, but there is so much that I've never told you," he paused. "In fact, I think or at least I hope that you've always known just how much I did love you. And still love you. Nothing will ever change that." Paul lapsed into silence once again before continuing. "I suppose all I can do now is to try and get to the bottom of this whole business, find the people responsible for doing this to you and see that they are brought to justice. I promise you that I'll do everything in my power to see justice done, even if it is the last thing I do. You know how I always tried to keep you out of danger and you would never let me and always insisted on being right there with me? I guess I failed. I don't know whether you had any idea of what you were walking into and I suppose I never shall, but the fact is that I wasn't there for you when it mattered. And for that, I am sorry." Paul broke off.

The last words came out a mere whisper. He spent some minutes sitting in silence, lost in thought, until the sound of someone clearing this throat brought him back to reality.

Paul turned around to see Dr. Daystrom standing there, watching him.

Paul got up to meet the physician. "Good morning, doctor," he greeted him in a low voice.

"Good morning, Mr Temple," Daystrom returned the greeting.

"How is she doing?"

"About as well as can be expected," Daystrom replied, also keeping his voice down. "She's in and out of consciousness most of the time. She also must be in a lot of pain, at least a great deal more than she's letting us know about," Daystrom reported.

"What about her long-term prospects?" Paul asked.

"Impossible to tell at the moment. Assuming she doesn't develop an infection, I don't see why she shouldn't recover, up to a point at least, but I have to tell you that there it's very likely that some of the damage is permanent."

"What sort of damage are we talking about?"

"Memory problems, trouble concentrating, frequent migraines, those are among the most common. We've seen a lot of that with combat injuries after the war. But every case is unique, and I'm hardly a specialist in this area. When the time comes, I'll be happy to recommend someone for you to consult."

Paul nodded. The news wasn't good, but he hadn't expected it to be.

Daystrom checked his pocket watch. "If you'll excuse me, I'm late for an appointment," Daystrom said. Paul bade him good-bye and was soon along once again with Steve, or rather Louise, as he corrected himself mentally.

"I'm sorry," a sleepy voice suddenly said, nearly making Paul jump. He looked over to the bed and found that Louise's eyes were open and she was looking at him.

"Sorry, I uhm, I thought you were...asleep," Paul stammered, acutely wondering how long she'd been listening. Presently, he asked. "What are you sorry for?"

"Well, I heard what you said earlier and I know it can't be easy for you, suddenly losing the woman you married like that," she explained. "I don't know who shot me or why, but..." she trailed off.

Paul took a seat. "You don't have anything to be sorry for, I want you to know that. This wasn't your fault. And you still are the woman I married, even if you can't remember me," he added when he saw the sadness in her eyes.

"Do you really believe that?" she asked after a long pause. Her tone was so much like Steve's that for one tiny moment, he could almost forget. But only almost.

"To be honest, I don't know," Paul admitted finally. "I'm sorry," he added, not meeting Louise's gaze.

"I'm glad," she said. Paul looked up in surprise. "I'm glad that you didn't lie to me," she clarified and stifled a yawn. "I'm sorry, I'm really tired for some reason."

"Don't worry about it," Paul tried to reassure her, all the while thinking back to what Dr. Daystrom had told him about possible long-term problems. "Just rest. There will be plenty of time to talk later." Paul sincerely hoped this was true. So far Steve had beaten the odds at every time, defying the doctor's dire predictions, but how long could luck and strength hold out, Paul couldn't help but wonder.

"Be careful, Mr Temple," she murmured drowsily before he eyes slid completely shut. Paul stayed for a few more minutes, until he was sure that she was fast asleep. When he finally rose, he felt lighter than he had since the whole ordeal had began. They still had a long way to go, but he felt like they had taken the first step today.

oOo

When Paul was shown into the sitting room of Beverly Kingston's flat, the former actress was enjoying her afternoon tea. He had telephoned her after his return from the hospital in the morning and made an appointment to see her. She'd sounded surprised on the phone, but had agreed to see him readily enough.

"Good afternoon, Mr Temple! What a pleasure to see you again!"

"Likewise, Mrs Kingston," Paul replied politely.

"I hope you don't mind," she said, gesturing at the table set for two. "In fact, I'd hope you'd agree to join me."

"Of course," Paul took the offered seat.

"I've been in America for years, but I still miss my afternoon tea. It's a shame the custom has never taken root over here."

"You are originally from South Africa, aren't you?"

"Yes, my parents moved there when I was a child. I grew up in Cape Town. It was there that I meet Louise. Speaking of the poor dear, how is she doing?"

"She's recovering, but it will be a while before she's out of the hospital," Paul replied guardedly. Until he was sure that Beverly Kingston had nothing to do with this affair, he had to be careful how much he said. He also thought it best not to mention her memory loss for now. If the person or persons behind the shooting thought that Steve might remember the shooting and perhaps had even seen the shooter, they would have to be on their guard. He was fairly sure that Steve was safe in hospital, but the guard Harrington had agreed to post, gave Paul additional peace of mind.

"You'll let me know when she's up for receiving visitors, won't you?" she asked, giving Paul the smile that had enchanted millions of men who'd seen her in one of her films. Fortunately, Paul was quite immune to the charms of beautiful women. Maybe except those of the beautiful woman he' married, his mind added ruefully.

"Of course," Paul answered Mrs Kingston's question with a smile of his own.

"Tea?" she asked presently.

"Yes, thank you."

Beverly poured Paul a cup of tea. It smelled heavily of flowers, jasmine probably. Beverly then offered Paul a plate of muffins.

"Forgive me for asking," Beverly began, taking a sip from her cup. "But was there any particular reason you called to see me today?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, there is." Paul said, taking a sip from his own cup. "I wanted to let you know that I've changed my mind."

"Oh? You mean about the case?" She took another sip.

"Yes, I'm willing to investigate your husband's death," Paul clarified.

"That's wonderful," she exclaimed. "I.." she began, then suddenly broke off, a puzzled look crossing her face.

"Is something wrong?"

She hesitated for a moment. "No, no, everything is quite all right." She sounded tired all of a sudden. "What do you need to know?"

"Well, it'd would help if I knew more about your late husband and especially about the time leading up to the accident."

Paul waited for her to answer, but it seemed like she hadn't even heard him. She was looking at him, but her eyes had a far away look, like she was looking through him instead of at him.

"Mrs Kingston?" he asked. Had the room always been this stuffy? It felt like the temperature had gone up ten degrees in the last minute and he was starting to feel rather drowsy.

She twitched, as if startled. "Mr Temple?" she asked, her voice small and insecure. Suddenly, she slumped forward, like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Paul reached over to catch her, but the sudden movement unbalanced him. He managed to grab the edge of the table to steady himself, unable to help Mrs Kingston as he fought to remain on his feet. He briefly contemplated trying to make it over to the door, but after the first step brought him to his knees, he realized that he wasn't going to make it.

"Help!" he shouted as loudly as he could. "Somebody help!"

He was fighting back unconsciousness, too far gone to scream again, when the door flew open. Beverly's made, the one who had shown him in earlier, stood in the door frame, staring at the display in front of her.

"Call an ambulance!" Paul managed, before slumping to the ground unconscious.

TBC