I am amazed that in just two chapters I've gotten five reviews, three follows and three favorites. You guys are awesome! :) Today's update is kind of a short chapter, but I hope you enjoy this next installment of As I Recall.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rat Patrol. Wish I did, though...

As I Recall by boasamishipper

Chapter Three

(*) (*)

May sweet memories of friends from the past

Always come to you, when you look for them

And your inspiration long may it last

May it come to you time and time again

Now everybody seems to have their own opinion

Of who did this and who did that

But as for me I don't see how they can remember

When they weren't where it was at

Paul McCartney "Early Days"

(*) (*)

Previously on Rat Patrol

There's sleep, and he takes it as long as he can, knowing that when he wakes up again he still won't be the same.

He longs for the unremembered normality, and even deeper down Tully knows that he shouldn't.

Because one thing Tully knows for sure was that you couldn't miss what you couldn't even remember.

Present Day

After his first few weeks in the hospital room, Tully wants nothing more than to remember so he can just get the hell out. Several doctors, including Dr. Ames, float in and out of his room trying to catch a glimpse of the poor soldier who lost his memory, and think that his confused face and inability to answer any of their questions is the most interesting thing in medical history since the invention of penicillin.

The only one he hadn't minded as much was when his colonel had visited.

"You don't remember anything, do you?" he had inquired, awkwardly leaning on the doorframe.

Tully had shaken his head. "No, sir."

The colonel had left the room pretty quickly after that.

Hitch and the others come and visit every now and then. Their visits make him feel frustrated beyond compare, because according to the one in the beret—Moffitt, that was his name, wasn't it?—the only way to treat memory loss is if they constantly talked to him. 'Constantly', of course, being an understatement.

"Do you know who Captain Dietrich is, Tully?"

"How many brothers and sisters do you have?"

"When's your birthday?"

The more they ask, the more Tully wants to remember just so it will get the men to shut up.

Moffitt and Hitch keep shooting irrelevant bits of information at him, hoping that by telling him that he was raised on a farm or that his mother's name is Sarah will instantly trigger something in his brain and the memories will come flooding back.

The other one, Sergeant Troy, is different. When he visits, he just sits on a chair across from him quietly, tilting his head sideways and not saying anything for minutes at a time. Maybe he thinks that the silence will help him, although Tully doubts it.

Because if silence and uninterrupted noise won't cure his amnesia, than what, pray tell, will? There's no in-between point with the two.

Troy is sitting across from him again. Tully sits up in bed, sipping a glass of water. After a while, he begins to get exasperated. He places the glass down on the stand next to him. "Why do you keep staring at me?" Tully asks defensively, feeling somewhat self-conscious.

Troy starts, as if he's genuinely surprised by the question. "Does it bother you, Tully?"

"Yes, it bothers me!" Tully snaps. "It bothers me because—well, b-because..." Why did it bother him? How could he phrase it? "You're all trying to get this...this reaction out of me. Like if Moffitt and Hitch tell me enough useless information, they think I'll just suddenly get my memory back. And—and then there's you, who just...just sits there as if you can will my memories back into me by just staring! It's annoying!" He's breathing heavily by the end of his rant.

Troy is silent for a moment. "Can't fault us for trying, though, can you?" His voice is quiet and defeated. Tully feels slightly ashamed of himself. "What would you have us do, Tully?"

Now Tully is speechless. He splutters a bit before regaining the ability to speak. His cheeks are probably bright red by now. "Look, sir," he says awkwardly. "I don't...I'm not faulting you in any way here. It's...it's just..." His voice trails off.

"What, Tully?" Troy asks quietly.

"Just...if you want to tell me stuff, can y'all at least tell me things that, you know, are relevant?" Tully begs, feeling completely pathetic. "Please, sir. Tell me...tell me about me."

Troy looks like he doesn't know quite what to answer. "Dr. Ames says—"

"Damn him!" Tully barks a bit too loud, and immediately apologizes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He clenches his fists enough that his knuckles turn white. "Please. Just...just, please. Tell me who I am."

The man's shoulders slump, and he rubs his forehead with his thumbs before sighing. "Okay," he says. "Okay, Tully. I'll tell you."

This is what he learns:

His name is Tully Pettigrew. He was born on a small farm in Kentucky. He's the oldest of six, and ran moonshine for a long time with his cousins, Leroy and Jesse, which is where he'd learned everything about fixing engines. He'd joined the army shortly after the Miracle at Dunkirk, and had been recommended for Commando training almost right off the bat.

"You're one of the Army's best wheelmen," says Troy with a proud, sort of nostalgic smile before continuing.

He's a part of the Long Range Desert Group, also known as the Desert Rats, which operates in North Africa. Their mission is "to attack, harass and wreak havoc on Field Marshal Rommel's vaunted Afrika Korps", quote endquote.

Tully learns, with a sickening feeling in his stomach, that they'd just been coming back from one of their missions when Tully had accidentally driven himself and Troy into a land mine. Troy had suffered some bruised ribs and had needed stitches on his forehead, but had otherwise turned out alright.

The more Tully learns about his life, he starts to wonder if perhaps the amnesia is a good thing.

Troy finishes, his hands clasped together in his lap. He leans forward. "Feel better now, Tully?"

Tully pauses. "I don't know, sir," he says quietly. "I don't know."

Troy stands up to leave. "I'm going to go," he says. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Tully nods and looks down at his hands, lost in thought.

"One more thing." Tully looks up. Troy seems to be gathering his strength. "You'll get your memories back, Tully," he promises. "We'll be here for you as long as you want us to be."

Tully nods again, smiling slightly. "Thanks," he says. "Thanks...Sarge."

Troy swivels around, his eyebrows scrunched together, like he thinks Tully is playing a joke on him. His mouth opens and closes again, before smiling. "You're welcome," he says before leaving and shutting the door behind him.

Tully holds his head in his hands, trying to process the information that Troy had told him, but he finds no connection with it. It's as if he's just memorizing facts from a textbook, and that makes him want to scream, because he just doesn't remember.

When he'd called Troy Sarge, there had been a flicker deep in the recesses of his mind, and he'd been hopeful, so hopeful...and then the briefest semblance of a memory had vanished like someone blowing out a candle.

He doesn't know Troy, or Hitch, or Moffitt, and he can't be the person they remember. He doesn't know how. He doesn't know himself.

"Why?" he keens, his eyes burning with tears that he refused to let fall. "Why did it have to be me?"

He knows that he wouldn't wish amnesia on anyone, so it's a moot point. But complaining does seem to make him feel better.

"Why?" he whispers, a tear dripping down his face.

As expected, he doesn't receive an answer.

(*) (*)

Sergeant Sam Troy returns to their quarters, where he sees Moffitt lounging on a cot and writing something down while Hitch is cleaning one of their guns. It seems empty without Tully here too, he thinks, and immediately squashes the thought. He can't afford to think of that now.

"What're you doing, Moffitt?" he asks, sitting down on a chair across from both the Englishman and Hitch.

Moffitt looks up. "Oh. I'm writing a letter to my father. Telling him the day-to-day occurrences here."

"Are you telling him about Tully?" inquires Hitch, pausing in his work.

"Well," Moffitt swipes his hand across his forehead, "I don't know. Should I?"

"No," Troy says just as Hitch nods. "No, you shouldn't."

"Why not, Sarge?" Hitch asks incredulously.

"Because," Troy says testily, "I don't think Moffitt's father is any more of an expert on amnesia than any of us are, Hitch." He pauses. "I talked to Tully today. He told me outright that you needed to stop telling useless information to help him get his memory back because it isn't working."

"Tully said that?" Hitch inquires quietly.

"Verbatim," Troy confirms. He looks down at his hands, somewhat eager to share the better news with his men. "He, uh, he also called me Sarge."

"Did he really, Troy?" asks Moffitt, tilting his head. He smiles. "That's wonderful."

"Yeah," he says, because it is wonderful. "Yeah. He seemed lucid for just, uh, one second. And—and then his face went blank again." He coughs. "I told him everything today. About his life, about—about him."

"The doctor said you weren't supposed to, Troy—"

"You would've told him too if you'd seen the look on his face," Troy snaps. "Tully was begging me, Moffitt. Begging me to tell him who he was. I couldn't take it. I told him everything."

"And?" Hitch presses.

"Nothing," he says. "Nothing happened. He just nodded like he was learning about my life or something like that. Nothing happened," he repeats.

There is silence.

Hitch sighs. "Well," he says hesitantly, "he'll be back with us in a few weeks, so...maybe...maybe Tully's memories will come back then."

Troy suddenly feels exhausted, and very old. He'd heard so much about soldiers who suffered amnesia from trauma...but he had never expected it to happen to one of his men. He doesn't know if he can handle an amnesiac Tully full-time, but the sergeant knows he has to. Not only for his sake, but for the sake of his men. "Maybe so," he says quietly. "Maybe so."

We aren't giving up on you just yet, Tully. Not by a long shot.