A Fight to Remember

How to Change a Tire

A/N: I just want to acknowledge my readers for a moment... It is a bit of a stretch to imagine that Derek had amnesia for ten years... and I agree on that. In retrospect I probably could have written it differently. But once it's published, its published. So I Appreciate all of you who have stuck with this story. It isn't easy trying to work out all the possible plot points and explanations for everything. And the hard part is knowing where I want the story to go but not knowing how... and trying not to overthink the whole thing. So Thank You so much for trusting me here.

On a slightly different note, to clarify... Derek still believes he is Michael Robertson, at least physically. Emotionally, in his own mind, he is trying to reconcile the Michael Robertson that he was told he was he to the man he feels  he is. I am trying to maintain the character of Derek Shepard within the amnesiac man here... Optimistic, outgoing, compassionate, broody at times, wanting more for himself, but also indecisive and an avoider too. He needs to be pushed and there's no Meredith to push him. I hope I am putting that across.

This chapter jumps around a bit... pay attention. Anyway, onward ho!

April 2030 Vancouver

Derek

I checked my watch again. Lynn was late, but I couldn't blame her. Traffic was awful this time of day. I held the umbrella up and suppressed a shiver as Vancouver rain drizzled wearily around me. A horn beeped, and I caught sight of her tiny silver Honda Civic. I snapped the umbrella closed and crouched into the passenger seat, shaking excess moisture off the umbrella before closing the door.

"Hey, how was your session?" Lynn asked cheerfully.

I shook my head grimly. Therapy had been grueling today, and it hadn't produced the hopeful results I expected.

"That bad huh?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay." She said, "Hungry? Maria invited us to her place for dinner if you want to grab a bite before we hit the Ferry."

"Sure." Maria was a friend of Lynn's who loved to cook and generously offered her home to us when we were in Vancouver.

We drove in silence for awhile, as Lynn navigated the winding road to Maria's. As I leaned against the window, I reflected on this last session with Dr. Spicer.

Earlier:

"I'm sick of this! We're not getting anywhere!" I ranted in Dr. Spicer's office while I paced, hands on my hips.

"Michael, this is only your fifth session. These things take time. Have you tried the techniques I gave you?"

Meditation, synaptic stimulus, journaling... "I did at first,"

"But you gave up."

"They weren't working!" I rubbed my jaw. "Stop calling me Michael."

"It's necessary. If you want to discover the truth, you have to stop associating yourself with someone else."

"I- God," I sputtered. "Why? Why can't I be Chris?" Chris felt right. I was Chris. Somehow I was.

"How did you come up with the name Chris?" Dr. Spicer asked.

I sighed, remembering the conversation with Angela when I'd been rescued, "I don't know... It just came to me."

"Tell me about the island, you were alone?." Dr. Spicer picked up his notebook.

"Yes," I said. I sat back down on the chair and crossed my legs.