Disclaimer: The characters used are the property of David E. Kelley and no copyright
infringement in intended in their use.

                        If Memory Serves
                                
                       by Gail M. Eppers
                 Amnesia Advisor: Mary Niemiec


     "He's coming to."
     That voice.  It was familiar.  He opened his eyes, blinking from the bright light and
blurriness until his eyes focused.  There were many people in the room.  Closest, probably the
one who had spoken, was a middle-aged man in a lab coat with thick dark hair.  Behind him
stood a woman with shoulder length blond hair.  She held a sleeping child in her arms, a little
girl of about three.  At the foot of the bed was another man, older and distinguished, who was
bald on the top of his head; black hair peppered with gray grew like a laurel leaf around the sides
of his head.  He also wore a lab coat.  And on the right side of the bed was a younger man,
tough-looking, with a scar on his chin, and, like the others, dressed in a white lab coat.  Behind
him was a taller doctor with short dark hair, standing with his arms crossed and an intense look
on his face.  All of them save the sleeping child were staring at him, a mixture of worry and
relief on their faces.
     The first man leaned in and spoke again.  "Jeffrey?  It's me, Aaron.  You were in an
accident."
     Aaron.  The name reverberated in his brain.  He should know this man.  He knew, then,
that he was Jeffrey.  That much was certain.  He was Jeffrey Geiger, heart surgeon.  Slowly, he
brought one hand up to his head and felt the bandages wrapped heavily around his skull.
     "Aaron."  His voice croaked.  The image seemed to solidify in both his eyes and brain. 
His best friend in life, Aaron Shutt.  And he knew the blond was Aaron's wife, Camille, but he
didn't recall them having a child.  He didn't know the child at all.  The other men were Philip
Watters, Chief of Staff, Dr. Daniel Nyland and Dr. Billy Kronk.  "Wha- What happened?"
     "What do you remember?"  Aaron asked him.
     Jeffrey thought hard.  Everything still seemed a bit fuzzy in that regard.  What *did* he
remember?  "Dancing."  He said.
     "Dancing?"  Aaron looked as confused as Jeffrey felt.
     Jeffrey's eyes looked inside himself.  "Yes.  Dancing with Geri."  He looked around the
room again, "Where's Geri?"
     Aaron stood tall then, exchanging glances with the others in the room.  There was a
wordless concensus and the rest of them quietly filed out.  Aaron pulled up a chair and sat near
the head of the bed.  "What's the very last thing you remember?"
     Jeffrey sighed.  "Let's see.  I was dancing with Geri, in my office.  I nibbled her ear.  Oh
yeah, I swallowed her earring!  God, that hurt like hell!  I must have passed out, right?  I passed
out and hit my head on something?"
     Aaron was quiet, neither confirming nor contradicting Jeffrey's hypothesis.  "What year is
it, Jeffrey?"
     Jeffrey laughed.  What a stupid question!  "Ninety-five."
     Jeffrey's stomach knotted when Aaron put a hand on his arm.  "Listen," Aaron said, "You
were in a car accident.  A drunk driver hit you head-on.  He was killed.  You've been in a coma
for a month.  And it's 1997."
     Jeffrey tried to sit up suddenly, but Aaron restrained him with a hand on each shoulder. 
It didn't matter.  He would have followed his head back to the pillow in a minute.  Aaron
continued, "You're suffering some memory loss.  It should be temporary."
     "Should be."  Jeffrey repeated for emphasis.  "Two years?" He muttered disbelievingly. 
"Okay, so where's Geri?  Fill me in, pal.  What am I missing?  And hurry up, I expect the Eel to
come in any minute and ask me to sign something."
     "It's not that simple."  A chill went up Aaron's spine as he answered Jeffrey's question to
himself.  What was he missing?  A hell of a lot.  Laurie's wedding.  The competency hearing. 
Alan's death.  His adoption of Alicia.  Aaron rubbed his face in his hands.  Of all the years that
he could lose, why did it have to be these?
     "What do you mean, it's not that simple?"  Jeffrey scanned Aaron with those sparkling
brown eyes.  "Just tell me."
     Aaron took a deep breath.  "Look, I need to get a consult on this one, Jeffrey.  You rest
easy."  He rose, patted Jeffrey on the shoulder and turned to leave.  "I'll be back soon."
     He stepped into the hallway and closed the door.  A chorus of "Well?"s came from the
others who had waited impatiently in the hall.  "He doesn't remember the past two years."  He
told them.  "There's no way to know if the memory loss will be permanent. Philip?"
     "Yes?" Philip Watters slid himself passed Kronk.
     "Is there any way to contact Geri Infante?"  Aaron didn't have to clarify his meaning. 
They'd all heard him say it.  Geri was the last thing he remembered.  She'd need to be here,
whether she liked it or not.
     "I'll get her."  Philip said, and veered off to his office.
     Aaron stepped over to Camille, still holding the sleeping child, "Take her home,
Camille." He indicated the little girl.
     Her eyes moist, she nodded, pressing her lips tightly together to hold back the sobs.  Then
she hefted the child gently to a more comfortable position and walked away.


     Jeffrey lay in the hospital bed, alone now, trying to remember.  He had an odd feeling in
the pit of his stomach.  He felt the bandages again to remind himself of what Aaron had just told
him, and tried to sit up.  Again, pain and dizziness forced him to remain horizontal.  He winced,
frustrated with his inability.  There was something he needed to do, something very important,
but he couldn't remember what it was.  He wanted to get out of the bed and go somewhere.  
     Then he caught himself looking at his hands.  They were empty.  Should there have been
something in them?  A car accident, Aaron had said.  Was he driving?  Should the steering wheel
have been there perhaps?  He wasn't sure.  Finally, he turned his back to the door and tried to go
back to sleep.  Maybe when he woke up, everything would be all right again.
     He closed his eyes and thought of Joey.  He remembered Joey.  A different pain attacked
his stomach and chest, as he saw his infant son lying very still in a bathtub full of water, his
wife, Laurie sitting senselessly on the floor, her clothing still damp.  Closing his eyes tighter, he
tried to imagine things the way they should be.  Joey would be ten now.  He could picture the
boy, much like himself at that age, as they played catch with a baseball and glove in the front
yard.  There, that image was better.  It relaxed him.  "C'mon, Joey. Right here."  He would say,
pounding the center of the glove.  He saw Joey smile, and begin a dramatic wind up, only to pull
up short and throw underhand.
     In his drowsiness, Jeffrey chuckled. 
     It was a perfect day.  The air was warm, the sky blue, and a slight breeze tousled their
hair.  The game of catch went on, and the sun began to turn orange and pink as it sank in the sky. 
Neither of them was even winded, but instead seemed to stay fresh and relaxed.  The air
remained warm, though a warmth was spreading from inside himself as well.  He was happy.  He
had a son, and a home life that was the American Dream.   
     He felt he could play catch all night.  Then he threw the ball back at Joey. The ball flew
much faster than he'd intended.  In midair, it splintered into seven pieces, which struck Joey in
the chest and abdomen, penetrating deep into his body. The boy fell, and Jeffrey ran to him in a
panic.  He listened to Joey's chest, getting blood from the wounds on one side of his face, but it
was silent.  "Oh no."  He found the sternum and pumped his ribs, stopping after five to hold
Joey's nose and breathe into his mouth. "C'mon, Joey."  He said in the dream, "You're not dyin'. 
You're not dyin'".
     Jeffrey woke suddenly then, staring into the dimly lit room.  Something about that wasn't
right.  He'd said those words, but to whom?


     The next day, Jeffrey got several visitors.  Soon after he woke up, a tall slender female
doctor came in.  "How are you doing today, Jeffrey?"
     "Do I know you?"  He asked her.
     She pressed her lips together, "No, I suppose you don't.  I'm Doctor Katherine Austin."
     "What's your field?"
     "Cardiology."
     "Ain't nothing wrong with my heart.  You're in the wrong room."
     Kate hesitated, wanting to say more, but not knowing what.  "I've worked with you,
Jeffrey.   I was just hoping....maybe I could....I don't know."  Why did she feel awkward with him
now?  She never had before, even when they first met.   "Sorry for the interruption."  She
couldn't bare it any longer, and walked out.
     A short while later, Billy Kronk came in under the guise of checking his vitals.  He took
Jeffrey's blood pressure and pulse, and made a show of writing it on his chart.  But Jeffrey knew
that normally a nurse would have done this task.  "You're doing just fine, Jeffrey,"  Kronk
pronounced, as if it was news.
     "I know that.  Billy, can I ask you something?"
     "Sure."
     But Jeffrey had far too many questions to try to pick one.  He studied Kronk's face,
noticing the two further years of maturity that showed there, compared to the face he
remembered.  Kronk waited patiently, studying Jeffrey's expression in turn.  "You can't pick one,
can you?"
     Billy's perceptiveness made Jeffrey chuckle.  
     The door opened again, and Dr. Nyland walked in.  "Billy, how's it going?"
     "He's about to ask a question,"  Billy explained.  "I think."
     Both of them gave Jeffrey their undivided attention.   Jeffrey, a little embarrassed, felt
obligated to come up with a question.  "Um....what's for breakfast?"
     "Brilliant!"  Nyland declared.
     "At least he's hungry."  Kronk slapped Nyland on the back playfully,  "I'll go steal a tray. 
Be right back."  
     Nyland turned back to Jeffrey, "You've just lost two years of your life, and the best
question you could think of is 'what's for breakfast?'"
     "Come back later.  I'll ask what's for lunch,"  Jeffrey quipped.  
     Nyland smiled and looked at his watch.  "Well, some of us still work here.  I've got
rounds.  Just wanted to tell you...."  He paused, wiping the smile so he'd be taken seriously, "I'm
glad you woke up."
     "Thanks, penishead."
     Before Kronk came back with the tray, Diane Grad came in and gave him a peck on the
cheek, welcomed him to the world of the living, and left.  Kronk gave him the tray and helped
him sit up so he could eat unassisted, then also had to leave.  While he was eating, another
doctor came in, introduced himself as Jack McNeil.  An orthopedist.  "Don't worry,"  he said. 
"You wouldn't remember me if you remembered me.  I think we only met once.  But I've heard a
lot about you and wanted to give you my support."  He then tossed an athletic supporter on the
foot of the bed and walked out.
     "Ha ha."  Jeffrey said to the empty room.


     "I came as soon as I could.  I was in the middle of a tummy tuck."
     Geri Infante followed Aaron down the corridor. He stopped in front of Jeffrey's door, "I
appreciate your coming, Geri. Remember, to him, it's still 1995, and the two of you are still
close," he said.
     She glanced at the door, then back at Aaron.  "So what do you want me to do?  Pretend
it's two years ago?  Pretend the trial never happened?"
     "Of course not." he explained, "But the return of his memory should be gradual.  Don't
tell him any more than he wants to know."
     "What if he wants to know everything?" She asked.
     "He doesn't know what everything means yet.  He's in a very vulnerable position right
now.  He thinks two normal years have gone by, not probably the most traumatic two years of his
life.  I don't want it all to come back at once." 
     "Do we really have any control over that?" Geri asked.  "They'll come back when they
come back."
     "Prodded by whatever stimulation we see fit to provide him."  He paused, reluctant to
admit that Geri was right.  It really was all up to Jeffrey's brain now.  All they could do was try to
soften the blows.  Be there for him.  "Geri, you're the beginning.  He knows the situation.  Be
open.  Be honest.  But don't give him any more information than he asks for specifically."
     "Got it."
     Aaron opened the door, and Geri walked in, pasting a smile on her face.
     Jeffrey brightened and smiled when he saw her.  "Geri!"
     She sat by his bedside.  "It's good to see you, Jeffrey."
     Jeffrey inched himself up to a half-ways sitting position. "Did Aaron talk to you?"
     "Uh huh."  Geri's smile faded, "and there's something I need to ask you."
     "You need to ask me?  Go ahead."
     "Aaron said that you told him you were dancing with me when you swallowed my
earring."
     "Wasn't I?"
     "No," she answered self-consciously, "We were making out."
     He pushed himself straighter in the bed.  "You know, you're right!"  He grinned
crookedly, leering at her just a bit, "I remember that."  His brow furrowed, "But I also remember
dancing. Vaguely.  Maybe I'm wrong."
     "Good!  Jeffrey, that's good.  We did go dancing later, though. At a club.  To Ben E.
King."
     "I love Ben E. King."
     "I know."  She choked a little, realizing they had duplicated a previous conversation in
part.  After clearing her throat, she asked, "What else would you like to know?"
     "What happened next?  And then after that?  And all the way to today.  Is that too much?" 
He rubbed his bandages where they were beginning to itch.  
     Geri pulled his arm down. "You'll open your stitches." At his questioning look she
explained, "Aaron said it was only a few days ago that he had to relieve pressure on your brain. 
Does it hurt?"
     "It itches."  He admitted.  "I...uh..." he waved his hand to indicate Geri then pointed to
himself, "I get the impression that we're not..."
     "No, we're not."  She had a hard time maintaining eye contact with him, something that
had never bothered her before.  "It didn't work out.  You...you couldn't let go of Laurie."  She
hoped he would leave it at that.  It was a simple explanation, but the truth nonetheless.
     Jeffrey was trying to remember, shaking his head when nothing came.  "Laurie."  She
could hear the love in his voice as he said it.  That would never change, memory or no memory. 
"How is she?  Do you know?"
     "I haven't seen her lately."  She decided to come right out and say it.  "She married
Gilbert, Jeffrey."
     Jeffrey blinked.  "Married?"  Geri nodded confirmation.  "She married that...that..."  He
took a deep breath and held it for a moment, then let it out slowly.  "I see."
     But Geri could tell he couldn't see.  He didn't remember, and he had no idea why Laurie
would choose to leave him for Gilbert.  Geri didn't know where to go from here.  She waited
quietly, wondering what he was thinking.  Was he thinking his life was empty because he had
neither Laurie nor her?  But she certainly didn't want to be the one to tell him about Alicia.  She
wouldn't let that topic come through her lips.  Besides, she was out of touch long before any of
that happened and had only heard about it third hand.  
     She put her hand in his, watching the torture move over his face.  She still cared about
him deeply, even after all this time.  It hurt so to see him like this.  How could she hurt him
again by telling him what happened next?  As much as she wanted to excuse herself and leave,
she stayed rooted to the chair.  Even pacing would make it too easy to just pace right on out the
door.  
     His fingers parted, letting hers mingle with them.  "So what happened then?" His voice
was soft, like he was afraid of her answer.  "Did we just part company?  Agreeably?"
     "Not exactly."
     "Please tell me."
     "We tried...to get Laurie's permission.  This was before her marriage.  She was willing,
but there was another woman in your life who kept interfering."
     "Another woman?  I'm quite the gigolo, aren't I?"
     Geri smiled at his ego.  "It was your mother."
     "She's dead, right?"
     "Yes, Jeffrey.  She's dead."  She paused again before continuing, "You were under a lot
of pressure, Jeffrey.  I wanted you with me, you wanted Laurie," another pause, "and your
mother wanted perfection.  You lost control, Jeffrey.  At a public place, in front of Dr. Joseph. 
A short time later, he challenged your competency legally.  There was a trial."  She paused again
to let each sentence sink in.  It seemed Jeffrey was following the story, but that's all it was to
him.  A story.
     "A trial?"
     "Well, a hearing, to be precise."
     "Who won?"
     "You did."  He relaxed a bit when he heard this.  At least he'd won.  Then he was still a
surgeon.  
     He was going over the whole thing in his head.  "I still don't see what happened to us."
     "I testified at the hearing.  Against you."  It was getting easier.  She was able to say this
without forethought.  "Jeffrey, I'll always care about you, but at that time, you *were* clearly
unstable.  I had to be honest on the stand, and that's how I felt then.  Given the same
circumstances, I would say the same thing again."
     Now he was the one avoiding eye contact.  His fingers unweaved themselves from hers.
There was a long silence.  Finally, he whispered, "I'm tired, Geri."
     He wasn't tired.  It was clearly a dismissal.  Geri stood, wanting to say something more,
but not knowing what.  He was staring out the window, ignoring her.  
     No one was in the hallway waiting when she came out.  But she saw Aaron as she walked
toward the elevator.  "How did it go?"  He asked.
     "It went."  She said curtly, and punched the elevator button impatiently.
     "Geri?"
     She turned to face Aaron.  She'd never been the type to back down from confrontation. 
"I'm sorry this happened,  but please don't call me again."  The doors opened and she escaped
into the elevator, turned to push the lobby button, and waited steadfastly until they closed.
     On her way out, Geri decided to get something to eat in the cafeteria.  She had her food,
and found an empty table, planning to just satisfy her hunger then leave.  "Hi, you're Geri
Infante, aren't you?"  She heard and looked up.  
     "Yes."
     "May I?"  A tall, slender blond doctor put her tray on the table across from Geri, who
politely allowed her to sit, although the cafeteria was not that crowded.  The woman offered her
hand, "I'm Katherine Austin, cardio-thoracics.  I was Chief of Surgery for awhile..."
     Geri raised an eyebrow, "A while?"
     The woman ignored the question as she took her seat.  "You saw Jeffrey?"
     Ah, Geri thought.  "Yes.  He has amnesia."
     "I'm aware of that,"  Kate said, "how is he?"
     Geri pondered.  "Forgetful."
     Kate was getting frustrated, but wouldn't let herself snap at this woman.  "I understand
he's lost two years.  I met him a little over a year ago.  So he doesn't remember me."
     "That follows."  Geri put a forkful of lettuce in her mouth.
     Kate took a deep breath to curb her temper.  "I haven't been in to visit him yet."  Not a
lie, she thought to herself.  That little episode hardly constituted a visit.  "I'm not sure if I should. 
 How did he react?"
     "He remembered me."  Her eyes clouded, "a bit too much."
     "I know you were....involved.  Aaron explained that --"
     "And were you also....involved?"
     "No,"  Kate replied honestly. "Not exactly.  Look, I just want to know if he seemed ...
agitated, or upset.  I want to see him, but ...." she grinned crookedly, "in fact, this is the perfect
opportunity.  If he remembered me, he wouldn't let me in."
     "Are you planning to harm him?"  Geri was alarmed by Kate's little joke.
     "No, of course not!  It's just that we didn't always get along and..."
     "I see."
     Hell of a conversationalist, this woman, Kate thought.  "Just what *is* your specialty? 
Just so I'll know who NOT to recommend."  
     "I'm a plastic surgeon.  Private practice."  Geri rose, and leaving her food basically
untouched, walked out of the cafeteria.   
     Kate Austin watched her leave.  "He slept with *that*?"
     


     The Puddle wasn't very crowded.  So it was easy for Kate to find Kronk at the bar.  She
needed someone to talk to, someone who knew the situation, and he fit the bill.  Fortunately,
there was an empty stool next to him, so Kate settled in.  "Hi, Billy."
     "Kate."  Billy said, taking a sip of the beer he was nursing.
     "Brandy old fashioned."  Kate told the bartender.  She sighed, "Well, at least he woke
up."
     "It'll come back to him."  Billy shrugged.
     "Easy for you to say.  He remembers you."  The bartender came with her drink and she
tasted it, nodding approval.
     Billy turned, obviously short on patience at the moment.  "What difference does it make? 
What matters is that he's alive, and if all he loses is the past two years out of this thing, he's
damn lucky.  I was in the ER when they brought him in.  I know how badly he was hurt."
     "I was there.  Or have you lost your memory, too?"  Kate said.  Billy swivelled back, not
saying anything.  "Look, everybody's got a short temper right now.  We're all worried about him. 
We've been worrying about him for a long time.  It wears on you."
     "That's why I'm here, Kate."  He raised his glass to show her, then took a long drink. 
"Why are you here?"
     "I needed someone to talk to."
     "And I got the short straw, huh?"
     "If that's how you feel --"  She started to get up.
     He put his hand on her arm and pushed her back down.  "I'm sorry.  Nevermind.  What's
the problem?"  He even pushed his glass away and swivelled toward her.
     "It's not so much a problem, really,"  she admitted,  "It's just...I don't know, weird having
someone forget you.  I know we never really got along, but I'd rather have him hating me, in a
way.  Do you know what I mean?"
     "I think so,"  Kronk said.  "You want him to acknowledge that you exist in a manner
consistent with his personality and your mutual past experience."  Kate balked at hearing
philosophy come out of Kronk's mouth, but Kronk apparently didn't see the expression on her
face before she purposely changed it.  He continued, "Problem is, his personality is missing a
few pieces right now.  Give him time, Kate.  He'll get it together."
     "Will he?  Some people never remember what they've lost after injuries like this.  I mean,
think about it."
     "Kate,"  Billy started, what little patience he'd forced on himself growing thin.  "His
ex-wife, whom he loved more than anything or anyone, remarried.  He had a breakdown.   He
nearly had his license to practice medicine revoked.  A good friend of his was shot and killed for
no reason.  He might never remember what he had for dinner the night before, but he'll
remember these things.  Eventually.  And it won't be easy for him.  He's going to go through hell
to get back to heaven."  
     "Oh, that's very profound, Billy," Kate teased.  "You might enunciate worse than Sly
Stallone, but you know more words.   But the fact is, we don't know what's going to happen.  He
could remember everything tomorrow without blinking an eye, he could remember in pieces
with enough emotional pain for another breakdown, or he could never remember any of it.  
Meanwhile, the uncertainty is going to drive the rest of us to ---"
     "Kate, look at me,"  Kronk interrupted.
     She turned her head as if to say 'what now?'
     He pointed to his chin.  "See this?  It's from hockey.  I was nineteen and got hit with a
puck.  Talk about taking it on the chin.  The impact drove me back against the barrier wall, then
I fell on the ice.  Then another player fell on top of me, skated right into my head.  I woke up a
few days later thinking I was still in high school.  Scared the shit out of me when people told me
I wasn't.  If Jeffrey doesn't remember, he's going to feel like that for the rest of his life.  So he's
going to remember.  He has to."
     Kate stared at the scar.  She wasn't about to argue with a story like that, "You know,"  she
said instead, "I know someone who could get rid of that for you."
     "So do I.  Not interested."
     "Just a thought."
     They sat in silence for a moment, both sipping their drinks.  "You ever had any plastics
done, Kate?"  Austin was about to object, but Kronk, giving her the once over, remarked,
"Definitely not the nose.  Could be the lips.  That pout of yours just ain't natural.  Lips, right?"
     "No."
     From the grin on her face, he knew he was on to something.  "Can't be breasts...."  he
muttered.
     Austin drained her glass and rose from the stool.  "For your information, scarface, I had
them reduced."  Then without staying to see his reaction, she left the bar.


     Aaron sat at his desk.  Geri's visit with Jeffrey hadn't gone well.  Jeffrey's mood had
changed from simple confusion, to a deep sullenness.  Depression wasn't entirely unexpected, of
course, but it still worried Aaron.  Of all the things he'd seen Jeffrey go through, this was
different.  Probably because he didn't have his work to distract him now.  Each tragedy that
Aaron had witnessed, had been followed by Jeffrey burying himself in his work.  Now he was
forced to lie in bed, with, for the most part,  nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company.
     Aaron thumbed through medical literature, looking for a clue on how to proceed. 
Perhaps just telling him, even gently, about recent events wasn't the answer.  He was interrupted
by a knock on the door.  "It's me. Camille,"  he heard.
     "Come in."
     The door opened and his ex-wife, Camille entered.  "I need to talk to you about
something."  Aaron indicated a chair, and she closed the door behind her and sat down.   "It's
about Alicia."
     "Is she all right?"  Aaron sat at attention, closing the book.
     "Oh, yes.  She's fine,"  Camille answered quickly.  "It's nothing like that."  She saw
Aaron's relief as he relaxed his posture again.  Shyly, she continued, "You see, I've been taking
care of her for about a month now, and, well, ... it's just....Jeffrey doesn't remember her.  He
might never remember her."
     Aaron knew where she was going, and his face became grim.  "Camille."
     "You should see her, Aaron!  The poor thing is so confused.  I mean look at her life. 
Given up at birth, adopted, orphaned, and adopted again.  She needs stability, and I *know* I can
give her that!"  
     This argument was obviously practiced.  Aaron tried not to show his anger, "She belongs
to Jeffrey."
     "Well, I know that,"  Camille said.  "But Jeffrey's not able to take care of her --"
     Aaron interrupted, "A temporary situation.  He's going to get better."
     "You don't know that,"  She said flatly.  "It could be tomorrow, or next year, or never. 
Alicia needs a parent now."
     "Alicia is three years old.  While I know these are formative years, I think her stability
rests mainly in good care while Jeffrey is ill.  What are you telling her?  That he's gone?"
     "Of course not!"  She stood up angrily, "What kind of a person do you think I am?"
     Aaron stood up as well, and came from behind the desk, as she turned to follow his
motion.  "At this point, I'm not sure.  It sounds as if you're the kind of person who takes
advantage of another's misfortune."
     "I wouldn't call it taking advantage."
     "What *would* you call it?"
     After a bit of thought, she answered, "taking initiative.  Alicia's too young to understand
what happened to Jeffrey, and how long it could take for him to recover.  I'm taking care of her,
anyway.  What if something happened?  Her legal guardian doesn't even know who she is!"
     "I'm her legal guardian."
     Camille was stunned.  "What?  What are you talking about.  She belongs to Jeffrey."
     "And in Jeffrey's living will, it states that if he were ever dead or incapacitated, or for any
reason could not continue caring for Alicia, the responsibility would fall to me."
     "You never told me this?"
     "There was no reason to.  Until now."  Aaron started to lead her from the room, having
had enough of this conversation, "so go home, take care of Alicia, and remind her often that her
Uncle Jeffrey is sick and will get better soon."  
     "Really, Aaron, it's not like Jeffrey is her own flesh and blood, for Christ's sake!"
     The sound of Aaron slapping Camille seemed to echo for a long time.  
     Camille bit her bottom lip, visibly shaken and trying to keep control.  Aaron took several
deep breaths before continuing, keeping his voice calm.  "I'm sorry you can't face the fact that
Alan wanted Jeffrey to take Alicia, but that's the way it is.  She belongs to him.  That's the way it
is.  If you can't handle it, I'll find someone who can."  He took another breath.  "I'll have someone
there tonight to take her.  Make sure she's ready."  And he sat at the desk again, making it clear
that she was dismissed.
     "Aaron...."
     He ignored her, already paging through his book again.
     But she didn't leave.  She sat back in the chair.   This meeting hadn't gone the way she
planned it.  She rubbed her cheek where it still stung from the slap, not knowing the redness that
was already apparent.   "What do you want me to do?"
     "Camille,"  Aaron replied, surprising them both, "you've just broken any trust I had in
you.  How can I allow her to stay with you?"
     "I love her so much."  Tears welled up in her eyes.
     Aaron was prepared for that.  He'd been married to her; he knew about her tears.  "I'm
sorry to hear that.  Sooner or later, you'll have to give her up.  To somebody.  Can you?"
     "I don't know."  A lump the size of a baseball was growing in her throat.  
     "The sooner the better, then.  Tonight."
     "No.  Please."
     Aaron slammed the book shut this time.  "Camille, what part of this conversation don't
you understand?"
     "Please let me keep her."  She wasn't even looking at him anymore.  She listened to his
words, then spoke in turn, all the while staring at the wall.
     "Give me a good reason to.  You've already given me several reasons not to."
     Now she turned to him, her eyes clear and voice in control.  "Yesterday, she asked to see
her Uncle Jeffrey.   I told her he was too sick.   She asked when she could see him and I said I
didn't know.  She understood the sadness when I said that, Aaron.  Then she said, 'Please don't
leave me, Camille.'"
     Aaron waited a beat.  "You're making that up."
     "If I'd made it up, I would have started with that argument."  No emotion showed on her
face.  "I'm just trying to do what's best for Alicia."
     "What's best for Alicia is to be back with Jeffrey as soon as possible.  Agreed?"
     There was still a sense of reluctance, but she voiced her agreement.   "Agreed."  She took
on a demeanor of emotional strength, "I'll take care of her, and if and when Jeffrey is ready, he'll
have her.  I promise."
     Aaron was going to bring up her use of the word "if", but decided enough was enough. 
"And you will see to it that she knows that Jeffrey loves her, and wants her back.  If I feel for one
second that you are misleading her, I will take her away from you by force."
     Camille merely nodded, unable to speak.  Aaron went back to his book, and Camille
walked out of the office, realizing that Aaron was not making an idle threat.


     Some time later, Camille realized that she had walked by Jeffrey's door several times. 
She wished she had the guts to go in.  She had never really liked him, not the way Aaron did. 
She found Jeffrey Geiger's self-confidence made him obnoxious and conceited.  While he had
had tragedy in his life, many things seemed to be handed to him on a silver platter.  Sure, he was
a good surgeon.  Possibly even a great surgeon.  But there were other doctors that were
exceptional at their jobs as well, yet Jeffrey seemed to get all the attention.  She wondered if he
still felt confident now.  She tried to imagine what it would be like to forget two years.  There
were often times when she wished she could forget these past two years.  Even now, she found a
reason to envy Jeffrey Geiger.  But it was a hateful envy.  
     Then there was Alicia.  The thought of the little girl, waiting at home for her with the
nanny she had called back, the same nanny who had watched Alicia for Alan, brought a smile to
Camille's face.  In a way, she was sorry she'd never had kids of her own, and it was beginning to
look like her chances were getting slim.  Oh, she enjoyed her independence from Aaron, but no
other relationship had come to take his place.   And taking care of Alicia had brought to the fore
all the instincts she had been trying to ignore.  It had been hard enough to give her to Jeffrey
before, right after Alan's death, when she'd only had her a few days.   Her chest ached when she
thought of her time with Alicia growing short.  She couldn't remember a time when she actually
hurried home from work like she had been doing for nearly five weeks now, anxious to be with
Alicia again.
     Deep down, she knew Aaron was right.   Someday, Jeffrey would be ready to take care of
her again, and when that day came, she knew her happiness would end.  In the meantime, she
had to learn to enjoy it while it lasted.  She wouldn't break her promise to Aaron.
     She saw her hand on the doorknob.  What would she say to him?  She wanted to just
walk away, like she had before, and yet here she stood.  With a deep breath, she opened the door.
     Jeffrey was sitting up in bed, watching television.  Watching the news.  He saw her come
in and switched it off, almost looking guilty.  "Camille, thanks for coming!  Man, I'm bored. 
How do patients stand it?  Staying in bed, looking at the same four walls."  He waved the remote
at the window, "those curtains have got to go.  I'll tell Philip when I see him."  Then he let his
eyes float around the rest of the room, "and how long as it been since these walls have been
painted?  Maintenance is really dropping the ball around here."
     Camille smiled sweetly.  "How are you feeling?"  She stepped closer to the bed.
     "I'm feeling great, Camille!"  he said enthusiastically.  "But I could really use a change of
scenery.  Let's take a walk."  He started to climb out of the bed, and Camille hurried to give him
support.  His legs were still weak and he sank back to the bed.
     "I'll get a wheelchair, Jeffrey.  Stay right there."  In a few moments, she was back pushing
a wheelchair.  She turned it around and helped him get into it.  "There, now, where do you want
to go?"
     "Anywhere.  How about my office?"
     "Your office?"  Oh, Lord, Camille thought.  Aaron hasn't even told him that.  "Jeffrey,
you don't have an office here anymore."
     "What do you mean?  I don't work at Chicago Hope?"  He angled his neck to look up at
her, and her stomach knotted.  "Camille?"
     She walked to the front of the chair, closing the door as she did, and sat on the edge of
the bed near him.  "What did Aaron tell you?"
     "Not much."
     "He probably didn't tell you that I don't work here anymore, either."  She hoped to change
the subject a bit.  It didn't take much to realize where an explanation for his lack of an office
would lead, and she didn't want to be the one to tell him about it.  "I quit because the nurses
weren't being treated with respect, and my complaints were not being heard, or given any
consideration.  I'm just here to visit you."
     "I'm flattered," he muttered, his forehead crinkled in confusion.  "Um....does Philip still
work here?"
     "Yes."
     "Okay, let's go see him."  It didn't seem the least bit impolite to him to want to see
someone else when Camille had just said she was there specifically to see him.  Jeffrey just
wanted answers.  He wasn't interested in socializing; he was trying to understand what had
happened to him.
     And Camille was grateful at this point for an excuse to end the visit.  She would take him
to Philip's office, then excuse herself.  She opened the door, and pushed the wheelchair forward. 
Down the corridor she went and into an elevator to take them to the office level.   They passed
Jeffrey's office, wait, he told himself, I wonder whose it is now?  He heard a steady banging like
someone was throwing something against a wall repeatedly.  Then shortly after that, Camille felt
resistance as Jeffrey pulled on the wheel spokes to brake the chair.  "Whoa.  Wait a minute."  He
was staring at a darkened office with a large window.  Her stomach knotted again.  "That's Alan's
office," Jeffrey said.  "Doesn't he work here anymore, either?"
     "Um...no.  Let's go see Philip, because I've got to leave."  She said hurriedly, and pushed
the chair forward again.
     Jeffrey let her push him the rest of the way.  Just outside the door, he let her off the hook,
"I'll take it from here, Camille.  Thanks."
     Camille gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder, then retreated down the hallway. 
Jeffrey waited a moment before knocking.  Something was really wrong here.   
     "Come."  He heard Philip's familiar voice call out, and he clumsily maneuvered the chair
so he could open the door, then even more clumsily steered himself into the office, turned and
closed the door, then turned back again.  "Jeffrey!  It's good to see you out and about!"  Philip
was placing some books back on his shelves.
     Jeffrey rolled in and stopped in front of the desk, between two widely spaced leather
chairs.  "I want some answers, Philip."
     Philip sat behind the desk, "Sure.  Whatever you want, Jeffrey."
     The floodgates opened.  "What I want is for someone to tell me what the hell I forgot. 
Every time I start to talk about it, someone changes the subject.  I wanna know who that lady
heart doctor was that popped in and out of my room yesterday like we were old friends, and
what's up with Aaron and Camille, 'cause I know something sure as hell is, and I think it has
something to do with that little girl she was carrying.  The kid was at least three, and I don't
remember them having one.  The only kid I remember is Alicia, and if that's Alicia, what is
Camille doing with her? I mean, I'm glad to see she's doing well, 'cause I remember her being
one sick little baby, but I wanna know who's in my office and why, and I wanna know where
Alan is."  
     His long-winded speech  was answered by silence.  Jeffrey looked up and saw the terrace
through the floor length windows behind Philip.  For a brief second, he saw himself on the
terrace, handing Alicia to Camille.  That didn't make sense.  Alicia wasn't his to give, and he
never would have given her to Camille anyway.  
     Philip cleared his throat, "Now, Jeffrey, first things first.  You still have healing to do,
and you can't force the memories to come back.  Let them come back naturally.  Don't be in such
a hurry to catch up.  You've been through a lot."  It was only then that Philip realized that Jeffrey
wasn't listening.  Jeffrey had gone pale, and was staring out at the terrace.  "Jeffrey?"  There was
no answer.
     Jeffrey swallowed and licked his lips.  His mouth had gone dry.  He pushed himself up
out of the chair using the desktop for support.
     "Just hold your horses, Jeffrey!"  Philip said quickly, trying not to sound as worried as he
felt.
     "Hold your penis."  Jeffrey whispered.
     "What?"
     Jeffrey's breaths were coming quick and shallow.  He edged around the desk until he
stood in front of the window, one hand on the pane of glass to steady himself.  He felt his heart
racing, heard his own heartbeat in his ears as if it were being broadcast through headphones. 
Then he heard voices, dozens together, murmuring indistinctly.  The clinking of glasses.  "Speak
now or forever hold your penis."  He turned now and leaned his back to the window, but he still
wasn't seeing Philip's office.  "I heard him say it, plain as day.  I was looking at Laurie, but I
heard him. That minister...the one that performed the ceremony.  Laurie's wedding.  To Gilbert." 
The name came out rough and angry.  "He thought he was someone else."  Jeffrey's head bobbed
in concentration, "someone famous.  Al Capone?"  Questioningly, his eyes focused on Philip,
who stood by silently.
     "Eva Peron."  Philip supplied.
     "Yes!  Yes!"  He was still breathing hard, but began returning to his seat.  His eyes
focused inward again, but Philip didn't step forward to help him.  "I remember.  He made us
sing...what was it...."  he found the chair and sat heavily.  
     "Jeffrey, don't --" Philip began, wanting him to slow down before he hyperventilated.
     "Don't cry for me, Argentina,"  Jeffrey sang softly, "the truth is I never left you, all
through my wild days, my mad existance, I kept my promise, so keep your distance.... It was at
Huron, wasn't it?"
     "Yes."  
     Jeffrey was calming down now.  "I wonder what made me remember that now.  At first ...
at first I thought it was on the terrace.  I remember lots of people on the terrace.  Eh, there've
been plenty of parties out there, right, Philip?"   He brushed off the confusion, happy to have
remembered something at least.
     "Right."  Philip knew, though, that Jeffrey was referring to Alicia's baptism party when
she was eleven months old.  Jeffrey had been the godfather.  "You must be tired.  Let me take
you back to your room."  


     When Philip returned to his office, he found Kate Austin waiting for him.  He opened the
door and she followed him in.  "How's Jeffrey doing, Philip?"
     "He's making progress."  He sat behind his desk and opened a file, but didn't look at it. 
"He's still very confused.  You should go see him.  I'm sure he'd appreciate it."
     She didn't sit down, but instead stood in front of the desk.  "I tried.  I made myself look
like an idiot."
     "Oh?"  Philip gave her a questioning look, ready for the story behind her statement.
     She heaved a sigh, "I don't understand myself these days, Philip.  I couldn't talk to him.  I
just couldn't."
     "Maybe you don't hate Jeffrey Geiger as much as you let on,"  Philip said with a wry grin.
     "Don't even think it.  I can dislike someone and still feel compassion for them.  I'm just
having trouble expressing it because he doesn't know me from Adam right now."
     "Well, you've expressed it to me.  When he's better I'll make sure he knows you were
concerned."  He glanced down at the open file, not really seeing it.
     "Don't you dare."
     He crossed his arms over the file, "You're confusing me, Kate.  Do you want Jeffrey to
know you're worried about him or don't you?"
     Now she sank slowly into the nearest chair.  "I don't know."  She thought a minute,
choosing her words carefully, "I've never been forgotten before.  It's almost like...like I have
another chance.  Like I could start an entirely different relationship with him.  One that's better
for both of us, maybe."
     "Kate...." Philip started.  He wanted to warn her that that was not the approach to take,
but he wasn't sure how to phrase it.
     Austin kept going, "We could be friends.  Or at least friendly.  On the other hand, it's not
like I wasn't satisfied with the way things were.  But I think he was more serious about the
animosity than I was.  I really think he didn't...doesn't like me.  For some reason, that makes me
uncomfortable, but maybe that's something that can't change.  What do you think, Philip?"
     "I think --"
     Austin cut him off, "I suppose someday he'll remember everything and it'll go back to the
way it was.  But what if he doesn't remember me from before and I miss the chance to change
what is at best a rivalry into a solid, rewarding friendship?  But if I try to do that, and he does
remember me later, I'll look like a phony and he'd hate me even more.  I just don't know how to
approach him, Philip.  I'd really like your opinion on this."
     "Well, I --"
     "You know, it could be that's why I'm here.  I mean, if he doesn't remember me, he
doesn't remember me.  What if seeing me, hearing me, helps him to remember?   I could be the
key to this whole thing!  Oh, I don't mean to sound egotistical, but it's possible.  He needs to see
me.   I can help him.  You always remember people you hate, right?"
     Philip opened his mouth to answer.
     Austin slapped the desktop and stood, "That's it!  I have to make him hate me!  Philip,
you're a genius!  Thanks!"
     Austin left the office in a rush.  "You're welcome," Philip said to the empty room.
     


     Aaron Shutt  opened the door to Jeffrey's room, expecting to find his friend lying in bed. 
To his surprise, the bed was empty.  He opened the door wider, then immediately rushed in and
closed the door behind him, for there, pacing the width of the room, was Jeffrey Geiger, stark
naked.  Aaron cleared his throat.
     Jeffrey stopped pacing and looked up, smiling at Aaron.  At Aaron's questioning look, he
glanced down at himself for a moment, then back at Aaron.  "Hospital gowns make whipping
noises, too."  He said by way of explanation, and resumed pacing.
     "For Christ's sake, Jeffrey, your clothes are in the closet!"  Aaron pointed one way, and
stared the other way, listening for the sound of a zipper.  Instead, he soon heard Jeffrey's bare
feet padding relentlessly once again.  He decided to risk it, and looked up.  Jeffrey had put on a
pair of blue boxer shorts.  "Sit down, please.  I'm here to remove the bandages."
     Obediently, Jeffrey sat on the edge of the bed, near the foot, his feet tapping the floor.  
Aaron resisted the urge to step on them as he moved to the foot of the bed and pulled out a small
scissors.  "Hold still."  He snipped, then began to unravel the cotton bandage.  In short order,
Jeffrey's peach-fuzzed scalp was exposed.  Aaron peered at the scar, and examined all around
Jeffrey's head.  "No sign of infection.  Good."  
     "You don't sound happy."
     Curse Jeffrey for being so observant, Aaron thought.  Although he was glad that there
was no infection, it meant that he would have to release Jeffrey soon.  There would be no
medical reason to keep him.   Unless Jeffrey stayed voluntarily, which didn't seem likely
considering he was already pacing like a caged animal, he would be free to go in about 24 hours. 
"I've got a lot on my mind."  Aaron muttered.
     He thought Jeffrey would try to pin him down on it, but instead, his friend said, "Did
Philip tell you what happened in his office?  I remembered the wedding."  He pointed to his
head, "Laurie, Gilbert, Eva.  It's all back.  And then it stops again.  Something's not right here,
Aaron."
     "What do you mean?"  He crumpled the bandages and tossed them into the contaminated
waste bin just inside the bathroom.
     Jeffrey was, of course, back to pacing.  "I've been trying to figure this out.  You're here. 
Camille's been here.  I've seen Billy, and Philip, even Danny.  And some people that seem to
know me, but I don't know them."  He stopped and locked his gaze on Aaron.  "But no Alan. 
And whenever I ask about Alan, the other person changes the topic.  Where's Alan, Aaron?"
     "Jeffrey, please don't ---"
     Jeffrey jumped forward and grabbed Aaron's right arm.  He held it firm.  "Where's Alan?" 
Aaron, stunned, looked at Jeffrey's hand on his arm, then at his face.  "Aaron, you're my best
friend in life.  Is he dead?"
     "I need a drink."  
     Jeffrey let go of Aaron's arm.  "You're stalling."
     "No, I'm not stalling.  I need a drink.  Let's go to my office, because you're going to need
one, too," he said, pulling more clothes out of the closet.
     A few minutes later, Jeffrey, fully dressed, sat in a big leather chair in Aaron's office,
waiting while Aaron fixed them drinks.  He gave one to Jeffrey and sat, not behind the desk, but
in the other leather chair.  He leaned his elbows on his knees, holding his drink between them. 
Out with it, he thought.  "Alan was shot and killed by a street gang."
     Jeffrey took a drink, draining half the glass.  After he swallowed painfully, he prodded,
"Details."
     Aaron watched his glass.  "Diane Grad was with him.  They came into the ER together. 
He had seven bullet wounds in his chest and abdomen.  You operated.  Hell, just about
everybody worked on him.  It looked like he was going to make it.  He regained consciousness,
but he threw an embolism, and died on your table."
     Jeffrey was crying.  He sniffed, and drained the rest of his glass.  "And Alicia?"
     "He gave her to you, after the first operation....and you left Chicago Hope to raise her
after he died.  That's what you've been doing for the past year and a half."  Aaron downed his
drink in one swig.  Then grabbed the bottle to refill both glasses.
     "So, Camille's been watching her while I...."  He put the glass on the desktop, too
absorbed in the details to care, and accidentally knocked the coaster he was aiming for onto the
floor.    He bent to pick it up, but when he had it in his hands he stopped, still stooped over. 
"What happened in the accident, exactly?"  He sat up slowly, still holding the coaster, examining
it as if for damage.
     Wondering where the change in topic came from, Aaron replied, "We're not sure.  Your
head hit the steering wheel and both the dashboard and side window.  They found your blood in
all three places."
     "I was driving?"
     "Yes."
     "Was Alicia in the car?"
     Aaron paused, but couldn't avoid it.  "Yes.  She wasn't seriously hurt.  She was in her
carseat."  He added, "Jeffrey, when they found you, you weren't wearing your seatbelt.  The
airbag inflated, but you weren't belted in."
     Jeffrey stared at the coaster in his hand.  "She dropped it," he said.
     "Excuse me?"
     He held up the coaster, "There was a toy of hers.  A plastic coin almost this size.  She
dropped it and I pulled to the side of the road and I bent over to pick it up.  I couldn't reach, so I
unbuckled for just a second."  He dropped the coaster again, "I never saw it coming."  He took a
deep breath.  
     At that moment, there was a brief knock and then Camille came into the room, carrying
Alicia.  "Aaron, I have a problem.  The nanny is sick and ..."  She stopped in mid sentence when
she saw Jeffrey.  "I'm sorry.  I...." she stammered.
     Alicia saw him, too, and put out her arms, "Uncle Jeffrey!"
     Camille looked at Aaron, who nodded, and she reluctantly allowed Jeffrey to take the
child into his arms, sensing Aaron's scrutiny.
     "Hey there, Sunshine."  Jeffrey tweaked Alicia's nose and she giggled.
     "All better?"  She asked.
     "No."  He admitted, a bit sadly, "but soon.  You stay with Aunt Camille just a little bit
longer, okay?"  He gave her a big hug, and kissed her cheek.  "I'll be better soon."
     "I'd love to, really," Camille began, "but I'm due for my shift at County and the nanny has
the flu."
     "Go, Camille."  Aaron said from his chair.  "We'll handle it for now."  
     She apologized again for the interruption, then left.
     Jeffrey sat down with Alicia on his lap, a smile nearly breaking his face in two.  "My,
you're so heavy!  Are you growing again?  Are you supposed to do that?"  He kidded her.
     "You know, Jeffrey, you *could* take her home.  Physically, you're healed.   I was going
to keep you for observation, but I don't think it's really necessary.  There's no reason to stay here. 
You might never remember the day Alan died.  Believe me, you're better off.  Consider yourself
lucky and let it go."
     Jeffrey turned serious, spoke while allowing Alicia to play with his fingers,  "No.  I'm
not.   Haven't you ever forgotten something, then stayed up nights trying to remember it?  But
this isn't some trivia like who played Gilligan.  This is an important part of my life, and I don't
remember it.  Maybe part of me doesn't want to, but I have to ignore that part.  Knowing what
happened, and remembering it, are two different things, Aaron."  He stood, and spoke to Alicia,
"Uncle Aaron is going to take care of you for awhile.  Uncle Jeffrey has things to do to help him
get better."  He handed the child to Aaron, and walked out of the room.


     "Oh, there you are."  That tall, slim, blond doctor was walking toward him, looking very
happy.  
     She stopped in front of him and he squinted at her name tag, then remembered her
visiting him in his room.  "Dr. Austin?"
     "Yes!  You remember?"
     "Just from before.  You said you worked with me.  Here?"  She nodded.  "Is there
someplace we can talk?  I'm doing a lot of talking lately, but that's the only way to find out
things."
     "My office," she began walking as she talked, "but the talking, Jeffrey?  That's nothing
new.  You've always talked alot."
     He appeared to call up the memory as if it were on a flashcard, "Yes, I suppose I did."
     "Tell me what you remember so far.  I guess I'm not in there anywhere?"  She opened the
door to her office and held it open for him to enter.  Then she closed the door and walked to her
desk, and sat down.  "Have a seat, Jeffrey."
     "I remember Laurie's wedding."  He said, taking his seat in front of her desk.  "Geri told
me about the hearing, and Aaron told me about Alan, but I don't really remember those things."
     "I see.  What do you want to talk to me about?
     "Alan.  Geri said I won the hearing; that's all I need to know, but I want to remember
Alan.  I *need* to remember Alan."  He leaned forward as if that would help, studying her face. 
Something in the back of his mind was squirming.
     "I'm not sure I can help you, Jeffrey.  You know as well as I do that we can't pick and
choose what comes back to you."  He leaned back again, and she could see the disappointment
and frustration on his face, and forgot all about trying to make him angry.  "The harder you try,
the worse it'll be."
     "Ever had amnesia?  You'd think forgetting was a good thing, wouldn't you?  You're
wrong!  It stinks.  Especially knowing I have a little girl depending on me and I can't take care of
her like this.  It's like being crazy.  It's like....."  He paused, "crazy," he said again.  Then he
laughed out loud, "Man, I really did lose it, didn't I?  Just like Geri said.  I can't believe I hid in
my office!  The trains!  Christ, no wonder Dr. Joseph filed against me!"  Then he turned serious,
"and no wonder Geri agreed with him."  His eyes lowered as if in shame, "they were right.  I am
wacko.  Really, seriously, wacko."
     "No, Jeffrey."  Austin said, "if you were insane you would have hurt someone, or
yourself.  From what people have told me about that little incident, it seems to me you did
everything in your power to prevent hurting anyone.  That's the move of a sane man.  It may have
been an unusual tactic, but it worked.  It allowed you to cope."   
     He kept his head down, but shook it back and forth.  My God, Austin thought, he's
crying!  He raised his head finally, his face twisted and tears streaming down his cheeks.  His
voice when he spoke was harsh, "That wasn't coping.  That was escaping.  I ran from everything. 
From Aaron, from Geri, even from Laurie.  They found me anyway.  They put me back together. 
All the king's horses."
     Austin crept out from behind the desk and took Jeffrey's chin in her hand.  "Whatever. 
But you came through it.  Everything's all right now, Jeffrey.  It's passed."
     Jeffrey didn't say anything for awhile.  Kate noticed that his eyes were unfocused and
he'd gone a bit paler, the tears drying quickly.  "Jeffrey?"  she asked softly, not wanting to disturb
him.
     He took several quick, short breaths, and jumped back away from her.  "You hit me," he
said, still not seeing what was right in front of him.
     "I hit you?"
     He put one hand on the desktop blindly, then pointed at her with the other hand
accusingly, "You hit me!  That blasted story about your broken arm and how your mother set the
bone!"  His head turned away from her as if he were listening intently, "Where....."  he rose from
the chair and began to pace, while Austin watched in wonder.  His fists pounded softly on his
temples, "Where was it?  The people.   A party.   Alan was there, wasn't he?  What was it?  My
God,"  he stopped in his tracks, putting a hand on the nearest thing, a bookcase, to steady
himself.  Austin stood, but stayed behind the desk.    "Alicia's baptism.  That's what it was! 
Alan..." he choked, "Alan picked me.  Alan...."  He stopped then, took his hand off the bookcase
and stood on his own.  "Yes," he said decisively, and hurried out of Austin's office.  
     Austin found that she had one hand over her mouth and lowered it.   


     Philip Watters entered his office and looked out at the terrace.  Yep, he was still there. 
Four hours ago, Jeffrey had walked through without saying a word.  For awhile, Philip observed
him.  Jeffrey would sit on the bench for awhile.  Then he'd get up and walk up to the platform,
wander around on it with his hands in his pockets and his head down.  He'd walk to the chimney,
walk to the edge and look down, which made Philip very nervous, then he'd sit on the bench
again.  He'd watched long enough to assure himself that Jeffrey wasn't in any danger, then had to
go to a board meeting.  Returning now, it was both comforting and disturbing that Jeffrey was
still out there.  Night had fallen, but Jeffrey didn't seem to notice.  Philip wondered if Aaron was
still at Chicago Hope.
      Aaron had arranged a sitter for Alicia and had just returned to his office.  He took off his
coat and hung it on the rack, exchanging it for his white lab coat.  "Well, you're back," he heard
Philip's voice behind him and turned.
     "Hello, Philip.  Not for long.  I just want to finish up a little paperwork, then I'm going
home."
     "Have you seen Jeffrey lately?"
     "No."
     "Well, you ought to.  He's been on my terrace for the past four hours."
     "Doing what?"
     "Walking in circles, mostly.  Sitting on the bench once in awhile.  He's trying too hard,
Aaron."
     Aaron went behind his desk and shuffled some papers, "What do you want me to do
about it?   Do you need the terrace for something?  Is he about to jump?"
     Philip exhaled through his nose.  "I don't think so, but ---"
     The phone rang.  Aaron picked it up.  He didn't say a word, just listened.  Then he hung
up.  "Well, he's not on the terrace anymore."
     "He didn't --"  Philip started to say.
     "No, he didn't.  He was just seen running through the ER like a bat out of hell."  Before
he even finished, the two of them left the room at high speed.
     In the ER, an orderly told them which direction Jeffrey had gone.  Together, they trotted
down the hallway, looking left and right.  They finally skidded to a stop when Philip spotted
him, standing forlornly just outside of an OR, looking in.  They walked up behind him, looked
past the scrub room, and saw Austin in the OR.  Jeffrey either didn't hear them or didn't care.  
     Gently, Aaron put a hand on Jeffrey's shoulder, but it was shrugged off.  "This is the one,
isn't it, Aaron?"
     Aaron wasn't even sure.  It was quite possible that this was the OR where Alan had died. 
The silence made Jeffrey turn around.  "Up on the terrace, I remembered the baptism.  Philip,
that's the party I thought I saw before.  I made myself see Alan.  And then he....then I was in the
ER and I didn't even remember going down there.  The confusion.  Grad screaming.  I saw it all. 
I remembered it.  Then I came here.  C'mon Alan, you're not dyin'.  You're not dyin'.  Time of
death 4:22."  He turned back to the window.  "Kate Austin said that."  His head fell against the
window.  "Oh, God.  Alan."  His voice choked.
     Aaron took a step forward, but Philip held him back with one hand.  "Let him be."
     Jeffrey rocked his head back and forth against the window, then sank to a sitting position,
pulling his knees up tightly and putting his head in his hands.  In a few moments, he rubbed his
face, and let his head fall back against the wall, looking extremely tired.  Suddenly, anger
twisted his face and his fist slammed into the wall, his torso twisting with it.  "It shouldn't have
happened!  Damn it!  Why?  There was no reason for it to happen!"
     "Jeffrey, you've been through this."  They had all gone through it then.  It had been
difficult for any of them to accept.  "There are no answers."
     Geiger pushed against the wall, easing himself back up, still seething, but calming
slowly.  "You were right, Aaron."
     "About what?"
     He took more deep, heaving breaths, and turned his head as if it weighed a hundred
pounds, "I was better off before."
     The door to the OR opened and Kate Austin poked her head out.  "What's going on?  I'm
trying to do an angioplasty here."
     Jeffrey smiled.  "Hi, Kate."
     Austin stood full in the doorway, her body holding the door partly open.  "You remember
me?"
     "Unfortunately,"  he replied sardonically, expecting to get a rise out of Kate.
     Kate just smiled, secure in the knowledge that what she was about to say would get his
goat for sure.  "Nice to have you back, Jeff."  Then she backed up into the scrub room and let the
door swing closed.
     Jeffrey, pointing at her disappearing form, turned to his friends, "Didn't I tell her not to
call me that?"  Then, not waiting for a reply, he followed her through the door, "I told you not to
call me that."
     "He's really back,"  Philip said.
     "He's really back,"  Aaron concurred.
     The two of them strolled away, letting Geiger's rant fade in the distance.
     "The name is Jeff-REY," Geiger continued, as he followed Austin to the scrub sink.  She
seemed to ignore him as she proceeded to scrub.  "Two syllables.  I know that's a lot for you, but
you're a heart surgeon.  I thought you could handle it.  Oh, excuse me, you're not just a surgeon,
you're a woman surgeon.  Well, it's not like anyone can tell --"
     Her hands soapy and dripping, Kate turned and hugged the stuffing out of an astonished
Jeffrey Geiger.

THE END