A/N: Sorry this took awhile to update. I wanted to thank you again for all of the reviews. It's made my day!!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters.

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Chapter 4: The Liar

"So, you really don't remember anything at all, Taylor?"

The doctor sounded so sweet, so concerned, it almost made her feel relaxed when he spoke to her.

Almost.

In reality, she just wanted to curl up in her hospital bed, hug her pillow and cry until her memories came back. Until the entire black void in her brain was filled. She felt like a stranger in her own body. And, truthfully, she was scared. But even though she didn't know anything about herself--she had only learned her name and birth date when the doctor had told her-- she knew that who ever 'Taylor Townsend' was, she wasn't a crier. She was stronger that that.

"No, nothing." she answered him, willing those stray tears of fear that were stinging her eyes to just go away. She sighed to give herself a moment to collect herself, hoping the doctor wouldn't take that opportunity to ask her something else to remind her that she had no idea what was going on. "So... how long am I going to be like this?"

The doctor shrugged. "Hard to say. Amnesia affects people differently. Could be hours, days, weeks, months--"

"Years?"

He turned his eyes away from her briefly like he didn't want to tell her any more bad news, but when he looked back; it was the same caring gaze that she had seen after the scary lady left her when she woke up. "Taylor, unfortunately, you may never get your memories back. There is really no cure and no real explanation. We just have to take it day by day."

She didn't hear any of the last part past 'never'. Never. She let it roll over and over in her mind. How did a 19 year old go on with no memories of the past, no recollection of her family, her friends (surely she had some), or her future goals and aspirations. It was all getting too much for her to handle. She didn't even hear herself, but the doctor did. As she was thinking, she kept repeating, "Never" sadly.

The doctor reached out and patted her on the leg to bring her back into reality. When Taylor finally looked at him, he smiled a genuine smile. A smile a father would give a daughter, or so she thought. "Taylor, are you alright? I know it's a lot to take in."

"Oh sure," she said sarcastically. "I have amnesia. I'm a freaking soap opera cliché. I've never been better... or at least I don't remember it if I have."

He had to try very hard to suppress a chuckle. "Be that as it may, you have a mother and boyfriend who want to see you. Do you want to tell them or do you want me to?"

Her eyes shot back at him, big and confused. "Tell them what?"

His brow furrowed. "Tell. Them..." he stammered. "Tell them about your condition."

"Oh." she gasped. "No, no." She sat up much too quickly, causing the room to spin quickly around her. "Oh," she moaned pained as she brought her hand up to touch the bandage on the right side of her head just behind her ear. She began speaking again right after the room had stopped twirling. "We can't tell them anything."

"I think they'll figure it out."

"No, no. Maybe not. Doesn't matter because I don't know them. Do you know them?"

"Well, no, not exactly--"

"Precisely! For all I know they could want to use me for some kind of science experiment, OR they could be after my money-- am I rich?" She cut him off before he could answer. "Never mind. What if--"

"Taylor." the doctor said apparently to no one as the girl named Taylor just kept on freaking out.

"--they aren't really related to me. What if they are from the government and want to use my amnesiac brain to brainwash me into killing the governor or worse--"

"Taylor."

"Or they could be from--"

"Ms. Townsend." he interrupted more sternly. When she finally stopped talking, he began by patting her on the arm. "From what I can tell, those people out there are your family and not some scientific alien government alliance sent to brainwash you."

"You don't know that." she pouted.

Again, he laughed. There was something about Taylor that endeared him. "Those people out there and others actually are going to know something is up. It's not so easy to lie when you don't even know what you are lying about."

"I'm not lying."

He crossed his arms and stared at her. "Oh really. Well OK then, what is your favorite color?"

She eyeballed him. "What does that have to do-- Oh." she said when she realized what he was doing. She squared her shoulders and said, "Red."

"And what if I was your mother and I said, 'Taylor, what's wrong with you? You know you just adore lavender.'?"

"I would tell her that I've changed and so have my tastes."

"From a bump on the head?"

"Could happen."

He rubbed his hand across the tension knots that seemed to be forming in his shoulders. "This isn't going to work." he advised.

"I don't have to do it forever. Just say as little as I can until my memory comes back."

The doctor shook his head, knowing this wasn't an argument he could win against her. "So, who would you like for me to invite in first?"

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Ryan sat outside in his wheelchair, growing impatient. He and Veronica hadn't spoken since the doctor had chastised them, but still he had to look at her, the woman who threw Taylor out like the trash when she had no one else. He knew what that was like and he didn't feel as forgiving towards her as Taylor might.

So instead of wasting time swapping barbs with the woman, he sat quietly, thinking about what could be taking so long with Taylor. He didn't have much time left as per the doctor's orders, and he'd be damned if he spent his entire leave sitting in the hall, staring at a wall with Veronica Townsend.

Finally, the door opened and the salt and pepper hair doctor came out. Ryan wasted no time wheeling up between Veronica and him. "I have to see her. Now." he demanded.

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Taylor sat nervously on her bed, reviewing the notes she had taken. The doctor, who she learned was named James McCarthy, told her everything he knew about the two people waiting to see her. He didn't know much about her mom except that the address on Taylor's admission forms weren't the same as her mother's, and her mother wasn't listed who to call in case of emergency. Those numbers were for a Summer Roberts and Ryan Atwood, the other person waiting to see her. Dr. McCarthy told Taylor that Ryan had been seriously hurt himself in the earthquake. He didn't treat him, but he asked a colleague who said that it was touch and go for a while for him. He had lost a lot of blood trying to save her. It made her feel incredibly guilty to not remember a man who did that much for her. She tried harder, but only received the beginnings of a headache for her trouble.

Deciding she'd had enough, she tossed the notebook in the drawer beside the bed and began smoothing down her covers around her nervously. First meetings and all--

When the door opened to her room, she felt panicked and instantly reached to smooth her hair. She mentally kicked herself for not thinking about it before, but with all that was going on, she hadn't thought to make herself look presentable.

She stopped messing with herself when she saw him.

She had expected the wheelchair by Dr. McCarthy's description, but what she hadn't counted on was for the occupant to look nearly as bad as she felt. The man, Ryan she concluded, was very pale, as white as a ghost. And it was all her fault. All because he was trying to help her. Maybe he loved her, or maybe he saved all the ladies. Maybe he was wired like that. She couldn't be sure just like she couldn't be sure of anything. She only prayed that this Ryan Atwood liked to talk so she wouldn't have too and maybe get some answers.

The moment their eyes met, Taylor put on her biggest, 'Hey, I'm OK." smile. "Ryan." she greeted politely. Then mentally admonished herself again, wondering if it was too polite, too formal. She felt the confidence waning and she began thinking that maybe this wasn't the best idea in the world.

The blond boy smiled back. "Taylor." he said, rolling himself up to her bedside. And that was it. All he said. Great. Not a chatterbox, she thought sighing.

"So," she began. "How are you? I heard you were hurt."

"Fine. Fine. Just a scratch. I'm more worried about you. Are you ok?" he took her hand as she spoke and she fought every nerve ending she had not to pull away. He might feel comfortable touching her, but to her, he was a stranger, a very handsome stranger, yes, but a stranger none the less.

"I'm fine." she lied, taking her hand back to rake her hair back behind her ears. She hoped he didn't see it for the evasive maneuver that it was.

"Really?" he said it like he didn't believe it, with his eyes in slants toward her.

"Yes, really. But back to you. You look very pale for someone who just got a scratch." She was trying anything to get the conversation back to him and off of her. She didn't feel much like talking about herself and the 30 minutes of her life she actually remembered.

He shrugged.

"So," she pushed. "Tell me. What happened?"

"Well, what do you remember?"

Such a loaded question. "The earthquake." she said quickly, lying through her teeth. The only way she even knew there was an earthquake was because the doctor had told her. But he didn't question it, just nodded and went on. "Yeah, the earthquake that was-- intense."

"Intense." she agreed, awkwardly matching his nod. "You hurt your back, right?"

He looked at her quickly. "How'd you know about that?"

Crap. She saw wheels turning in his head that she did not want to see. She didn't want her cover blown in the first 10 minutes. "The doctor told me – I asked about you." she added after he didn't speak.

He put the brakes on his chair and rose up gingerly. "Are you sure you should be doing that?" she asked him. He only smiled back. "I don't really care." he said as he eased himself onto the side of her bed facing her. The look on his face, the smile, made her heart leap and break all at the same time. She really wished she could remember him. His kind face. His deep blue eyes. She bet they had lots of good times together. She couldn't wait to remember them.

He reached up and placed a stray piece of hair behind her ear before she had time to think about it. "They will just haul me out of here in a few minutes anyway. Might as well get some enjoyment out of it."

"Haul you out, huh?" she giggled. There was something about the look on his face that made her laugh.

"Only way I'll leave."

"Really? Well, at least entertain me with a story before you are hauled away. Tell me what happened to you."

"Nothing to tell." he shrugged averting her eyes. When he looked back he saw the determination and the 'never take no' look in her eyes. He knew he was done for. "Yeah, OK. I was covering you up, obviously not very well," he reached up and gently touched her bandage on her head. She kept reminding herself not to jerk away. He was her boyfriend after all. He was allowed to touch her. He was warm and kind... and really hot. "A curio cabinet fell on us." he went on. "I got a small cut on my back. You got knocked on the head. Scared me a little."

"Let me see it." she surprised herself with the demand. She didn't know where her curiosity came from... and her inability to not make herself shut up even when she knew it was the right thing to do.

"It's nothing." Ryan answered, his face getting a little color in his cheeks. Taylor liked how it made him look.

"Nothing. Really?"

"Really."

"A small cut." she repeated his earlier statement.

"Yeah."

"That put you in a wheelchair. Man, you are much wimpier than I thought." she laughed and then noticed him looked at her kind of strangely. "You've never thought that-- have you?" She didn't know what to do, to backtrack, to go forward, to laugh it off as a joke. She knew she had said too much, gotten to into the moment and now he would figure things out, let her mother take her to the brainwashing facility, and then that would be that.

She swatted her hand like she was shooing a fly and brushed the comment off. "I'm just teasing, Ryan." she said it with ease, but in reality, her heart was beating a mile a minute hoping he bought it. She didn't have time to question herself about her motives for lying or about how maybe this man that looked really trustworthy really was trustworthy. She just wanted to get through the next few minutes. That's all.

It took him a second, but he seemed ok with that answer. "So, anyway, the 'scratch'" she reminded pointing to his back. Ryan sighed, turned, and raised his gown up exposing the top of his boxers and the large piece of gauze on the side of his back. Taylor gasped and her mind began to race when she saw the size of it, and the dark red spots beginning to from on it.

Blood.

"Oh God, Ryan." Instinctively reaching out to touch it. "Does it hurt? That's a stupid question." she backtracked. "Of course it hurts. And you got it, because of me-- because you were saving me." Everything was hitting her hard and fast. No memories were coming back, but something else. Guilt. Panic. The knowledge that someone had done something so selfless for her and she was too stupid to even remember it.

Her breathing began getting quicker and her hand began to tremble. The dark red spots were getting bigger. She didn't know who she was, but she was pretty sure she didn't like blood, especially when it was her fault the other person was bleeding.

Ryan felt her shaking and turned to face her. She was pale, deathly pale and trembling. "Taylor?" He asked grabbing her shoulders tightly. "Taylor, calm down. What's the matter? Are you hurting anywhere?"

She tried to make her lips move, to tell him about the blood, but she couldn't. The shock of the earthquake. The trauma of it all. The blackness the hole in her mind was causing began taking a toll on her. She began to shake.

"Taylor, calm down ok. You are ok."

"You're bleeding." She heard herself say. "You're hurt. You could have bled to death, Ryan. You still might. You could have died-- because of me."

"No no. I am fine. I wasn't hurt as bad as you--"

"LIAR!" she screamed, tears now flowing down her cheeks, and then instantly regretted it. The door opened almost as quickly as she had said it and the scary lady came running back in.

The first thing Veronica saw when she came in was Ryan sitting on Taylor's bed, holding her shoulders while she looked terrified. She took it to mean what she wanted it too. "Ryan! Leave my daughter alone! What are you doing?" She ran up to him and tried to break his grasp on Taylor.

"She's flipping out. Stop it, Veronica!"

At that moment, Taylor wanted to crawl under the floorboards and cry. Here this man was, this kind man who had saved her, who was trying to save her again even though he was-- she couldn't think about his back and the blood. Surely, she wasn't the type of person to faint at the site of blood. She was such a wimp. Taylor Townsend was a freaking wimp. She tried to find the words to speak, but the world began getting all fuzzy again. "Ryan." she mumbled, barely audible.

"Veronica, get the doctor, now. She's going under again."

She didn't want to leave that boy with her daughter, but she knew she had no choice. She ran to the door and yelled, with the help of some not-so-nice expletives, for the damn doctor.

"Hold on, Taylor. Stay awake for me, please. It's ok. I'm ok. You're ok. Calm down. Please. Don't leave again."

Taylor heard his words. She felt his lips to hers, but that's all she could do. The darkness surrounded her again quickly as she slipped down deeper into nothingness.

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