I Don't Remember

One

An incessant beeping woke her up, and she squeezed her eyes tighter. Stupid alarm; wasn't it way too early to get up anyways? She moved her arm to hit the alarm clock, but when she did fire shot through her arm. She cried out in pain and finally opened her eyes.

She was in the hospital. Why was she in the hospital? She shouldn't be here. She fell asleep in her bed, in Danny's arms.

... Didn't she?

"Danny?" Linda called out and tried to move. Her muscles felt like they were being turned on a barbecue. They burned like muscles do after a good, intense workout. What the hell happened? "Danny! Danny!"

Danny walked through the door and quickly hung up his coat and dropped the bag in his hand to the floor. "It's okay, it's okay. I'm here," he sat on her bed and grabbed her hand.

Danny studied her; she looked scared and confused. Of course she'd be scared and confused— she just woke up from a coma!

"Why am I here?" Her speech was a little garbled and halted, but he had experience deciphering her words while she cried. Listening and deciphering now would be a walk in the park.

"You had an accident, honey," he tried to keep his voice calm and steady. Any time he thought of that bastard who drove his wife off the road, he wanted to scream and destroy something. Namely the bastard who drove his wife off the road.

"Can you stop the beeping? I have a headache."

He frowned as he hit the call button, "no, I can't. I know they're annoying— I'm sorry."

About a minute later, a nurse walked in- Nurse Susan. She had been Linda's regular nurse throughout the hospital stay. "You're awake! That's fantastic!"

Linda looked at Danny and whispered, "I went to bed last night. Of course I'm awake."

"I need to ask you a few questions, okay? Can you tell me your name?"

"Linda Reagan."

"Full name."

"Linda Rose O'Shea Reagan."

"And where do you live?"

"1712 Amboy Road, Staten Island, New York."

Danny looked down to their joined hands and the nurse didn't say anything. Linda didn't remember the house fire. She didn't remember moving into the new place two weeks before the accident. She didn't remember him carrying her over the threshold. She didn't remember christening three rooms.

"Who's the president?"

"Barack Obama."

"Obama?" Danny repeated, confused. He knew after brain injuries, patients couldn't remember the accident. But wouldn't she be able to remember who the president was?

"He is!" Linda argued, also confused about it.

"What year is it?"

"It's 2014. The nineteenth. Our eighteenth wedding anniversary is next month."

Eighteenth? Danny furrowed his brow, growing even more concerned.

"Who's your husband? What's his name and what does he do?"

"Danny Reagan. He's a first grade detective at the fifty fourth precinct," Linda turned to Danny again. "Why is this confusing?"

"What's your social security number?" Susan continued.

"I don't have that memorized," she admitted. "I'm sorry, but could you tell me what happened? I mean, Danny's looking at me like have lobsters coming out of my ears!"

"You have amnesia," Susan said plainly.

"What?" The couple asked together.

"It seems as though the last three years have been wiped from your memory. We won't know serious it is until we do some tests."

Linda shook her head but then immediately regretted it. "But that's... that's impossible. That's soap opera shit! That's..."

"What's happened. You didn't get any of the time questions correct. You got names right, which is excellent, but you think it's 2014."

"Isn't it?"

"It's March 2018," Danny informed her carefully.

"2018?!"

"You've been in a coma since September last year."

"September?!" She didn't know how or even why, but she started to cry.

"It's okay," Danny rubbed her shoulder. "It'll come back. Right?" He looked to Susan for confirmation.

"It should. Temporary amnesia is very common with head injuries."

"But if it doesn't?"

"I wouldn't worry about that."

"That's not an answer."

"She'll get her memory back," Susan said in a tone that told him to shut up.

*******

After a week and an eye surgery to fix an injured muscle, the doctors weren't as certain that Linda would regain her memory as they once had been. Danny had told her all he could about the car crash, and how, unfortunately, the driver was still on the run. He couldn't focus all his energy on a cold case, but every day he went over the file and every day he tried to find something he missed. So far it was to no avail but he was determined to find the bastard that almost killed his wife.

Danny was starting to doze next to Linda when she called his name.

"Danny?"

"Hm?"

"What if I can't ever remember the last three years? What if those memories are gone forever?"

"You'll just have to live with it. Nothing's going to change if you can't remember getting shot. Might be better off, actually."

"I was shot?!" She repeated, horrified.

He cringed, "yeah, by Curtis Turner."

"Oh."

"But don't worry about that. You don't want to remember that anyways."

"If I don't remember the bad stuff, then I won't remember the good stuff."

He wished he could say something full of wisdom right now, but he just has no idea where to begin. Lamely he says, "I'll just have to help you remember."

He saw her lip quiver and her throat Bob with a swallow. "Don't- don't cry, Linda," he put a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be okay."

"How? How can it be okay if I can't remember the last three years?! I was shot, and I don't remember. What other important things don't I remember? Were you shot too? Did you get beaten? Were the boys in some sort of accident?"

"Linda, Linda," Danny rubbed his hands over her arms. "It'll be okay. I wasn't shot, and the boys are perfectly safe. Everything is okay, but there are some things that you need to know."

She sniffed, "what? What things?"