JOHN DOE

Daylight filtered through a gap in the thick curtains, waking him as it hit his face. He'd slept fitfully, assaulted with images he didn't understand. The nurse had transferred the bed controls to the left side of him to keep him from over-reaching with his injured side. He pressed the button and heard the mechanism whirring as it lifted the top half of his bed up.

In the quiet of the morning he took stock of his injuries. Heavy medication kept him from feeling too much pain, but there was a deep ache in his right side where the doctor had said he'd broken ribs. His right shoulder was wrapped to immobilize it, and head still throbbed. He shifted in bed and stifled a gasp of pain; every muscle in his body screamed in protest.

Various tubes and lines snaked from his body to machines and IV's. A catheter kept him in bed until the doctors deemed him well enough to get up, but it didn't look like that was an option at the moment. He closed his eyes briefly against the sting of tears; he still couldn't remember what had happened, only that it had been horrific. Maybe it was better that he didn't know, he reasoned. If not remembering was this bad, he wasn't sure he wanted those memories back.

"How are we feeling this morning?"

He jumped as nurse Maggy spoke. He'd been so caught up in his own thoughts he hadn't noticed her coming in. She gave him a sympathetic smile and set down a tray of food on a side table. "Let's check out your vitals then we'll see about getting some food in you. You're getting stronger, but you'll need to start eating regular meals before we can release you."

"Release me?" he glanced up sharply at her. "I can't even remember my own name. Where will I go?"

"Easy," she laid a hand on his arm, "this is just a step in that direction. You've got a few days of recovery at least. By then, your memory will have either started to come back or..."

"Or it won't at all," he finished for her. "What happens then?"

"Well," Maggy checked his IV and jotted down some numbers on his chart, "we sent in a request for your fingerprints to be processed by our local police. It's a small force, though, so it may take a few days. If your prints are in a system, we'll know who you are and we can go from there. For now, though, I want you to focus on resting and healing."

"Resting and healing," he repeated. "I can do that." He lifted his arm so she could set the food tray in his lap.

"I'm gonna finish my rounds," Maggy unwrapped his fork and knife. "You just press that button if you need anything. I'll be back in half an hour or so to check on you."

"Thanks," he gave her a grateful smile and started to hesitantly pick at the meal in front of him as she left. As he methodically scooped the mashed potatoes into his mouth, he thought about his options. It was very likely someone out there was missing him - at least he hoped so - and as soon as he knew who he was, then he could find them as well. But what then? If his memory never came back, was it fair to his loved ones to saddle them with an amnesiac? How much pain would it cause them to look at him and know he would never remember them?

His stomach lurched and he set his fork down on the tray. He'd eaten all of the potatoes and half of the steamed veggies, but his insides rolled as he moved for the turkey slices. He tried to take a few deep breaths, but his body refused to cooperate. He lifted the tray and reached to set it on the bedside table, but it slipped from his grip and crashed to the floor. On the way down the tray snagged one of his wires and pulled it from the monitor, causing a harsh beep to sing shrilly. He gripped his ears as images assaulted him again, and he hunched in on himself as much as possible as the door burst open and a team of doctors and nurses rushed in.

"Sir!" Maggy was by his side in a flash. "Honey, can you hear me?"

Pain exploded behind his eyes as he screwed them shut, and the voices of the doctors as they reconnected and double checked everything faded away. He felt a grip on his arm that kept him anchored, but his mind threatened to spiral out of control as he struggled to regain some semblance of calm. Nothing existed for a long while except the pain and the ringing in his ears, and he fought to stay conscious as the team worked around him.

After an eternity, the whine faded away slowly, leaving his breathing heavy and his heart pounding. Maggy's grip on his arm loosened but didn't go away completely, and he carefully pulled his hands away from his head as he relaxed back into the pillows. Finally he looked up at her in horror, and his voice shook as he spoke.

"I remember," he said hoarsely. "I remember what happened."