The Price of a Memory(Closed for SweetAsSuga)

Connor Mason looked down at his radio as it crackled to life.

"131Bravo, we have reports of a shooting off of Madison and Heathrow. Please proceed to verify," the dispatch said.

Connor quickly flicked on his lights before speeding through the lights in his police charger. He normally wouldn't use sirens to verify something, but with the recent rash of shootings that resulted in homicides, the precinct had mandated that any shooting related report needed to be verified as quickly as possible.

"131Bravo on my way to Madison and Heathrow," Connor said into the radio before concentrating on driving. He quickly reached the scene of the shooting and stepped out of the car.

As he walked down the alley across from the intersection, he immediately radioed for help. "131 Bravo requesting assistance and ambulances. Two victims, one with multiple gunshot wounds, one badly beaten," he said before running to his car and grabbing the emergency medical kit.

He quickly applied bandages to the gunshot wounds of the first victim, although failed to get a response. Another squad car arrived, and he left the other unit to take care of the gunshot wounds while he addressed the victim who had taken a beating.

He tried his best to take care of her, but wasn't sure how bad things were, as all he could see was bruising and discoloration. The ambulances shortly after he finished working on the few wounds he could treat for her. He helped the medics load her into the ambulance, and then waited with the other squad car before getting radioed back to the station to file reports.

Beep. Beep. Beep. The slow and steady rhythm was the first thing she heard. Trapped in a world of darkness, her eyes too heavy to open, she floated in a world of stillness. She didn't want to open her eyes, to join reality. But the slowly building noises around her, the shuffling of hurried feet and calls for assistance, and the stinging smell of industrial cleaners and bodily fluids were too much for her to take.

For what felt like hours, she struggled to open her eyes. It was as if someone had put weights on her eyelids. Finally, she opened them to bright, blinding light. As the stars in her eyes cleared, she took in the white and beige that surrounded her.

Her fingers flexed and she felt the stiff, scratchy fabric beneath her. Whatever covered her made her whole body itch. She tried to turn her head, but pain flooded her and she grimaced, deciding to remain still.

"Oh you're finally awake." A woman's voice floated somewhere to her left. She didn't dare try to look for fear of the pain returning. A deeply tanned face, wrinkles etched sharply around soft brown eyes, starred down at her.

"Hello dear," the face spoke, "can you tell me what day it is? What your name is?"

How did someone get hair that red? It looked as if a child had taken a fire engine red crayon to the wiry curls.

"Well?" The soft eyes turned expectant, they sharpened with intent.

"I..." words felt rough in her throat, like she'd swallowed sand. "I don't know." She fought to form the words, worried of hurting her throat and that she didn't know anything.

"Hmm, that is a problem. Are you sure you don't know your name?" The lips pursed above her. Pink lipstick had smeared just at the right corner of the mouth, like half a clown's smile.

"No." The word terrified her. She didn't know. Who was she? Where was she? What was going on?

"Okay, no need to panic." The face hurried to reassure as the beeping sound grew louder, faster, more urgent. The eyes flicked towards the source of the sound. "Some memory loss is expected after the kind of trauma you've been through."

"Trauma?" What the hell had happened? She tried to remember. Screwing her eyes closed she begged her mind to remember.

"Now don't strain yourself. Your memories will come back in time. Why don't I go get someone who can explain what happened." And with that the face was gone.

"Jane's ready to see you." The voice was not too far away.

Jane? Was that her name?

"We don't know, dear, you didn't have any identification on you." The face reappeared. She didn't know she'd spoken aloud. "We have you down as a Jane Doe until we find out who you are."

A deep voice sounded somewhere on her left and a second face hovered above her, this one distinctly male.

"Who are you?" She caught herself saying as she stared into the kind masculine eyes.

Connor was told to head over to the hospital after filling his report out. The doctors said that the woman would be waking up at any time, and he might be needed to help her remember things. He also had to identify the body as well, before it was shipped to the morgue. The gunshot wounds turned out to be fatal, with the first victim D.O.A.

He sighed as he stripped off his vest, and hung his uniform up in his locker. At 27, he was young to be a senior detective, but he had worked hard to get there, and hadn't gone to college, instead getting out of the family atmosphere that didn't want to see him happy.

He pulled on a precinct polo, stretching a bit to relieve the tension in his well muscled frame. The hours at a desk filling out reports had left him a little cramped, and now he would have to go sit in a waiting room until the woman woke up. He sighed, checked his phone, and then finished pulling on some slacks before heading out to his truck.

He was happy he didn't need to be in a squad car, but still didn't quite want to go to the hospital. Oh well, that's work. It took him about 5 minutes with the traffic, and then he was parking in the restricted lot for cops. He walked in and found the information desk.

"I'm looking for a jane doe and a body," he told the young girl working the computer.

Her fingers clicked over the keys, and she quickly pulled a sheet out of the printer before handing it to him. She went back to working, leaving him to find his way. He sighed and then went to identify the body.

The doctor attending, as well as two officers escorting the body waited patiently before Connor just nodded, confirming that this was indeed the victim that was reported at the scene. He nodded curtly to the doctor, then the two officers, before proceeding to the waiting room where the jane doe was.

"You must be the cop they sent over to help Jane with her memory," a red haired nurse said. Connor looked up and nodded.

"Jane? She remembered her name?" he asked.

"Nope, but we are calling her that rather than jane doe," was the response.

He shrugged before following her into the room. He could see that the woman was obviously beautiful, but knew this was professional. He stepped up to the bed and then turned around. The nurse was gone. He shook his head before looking back down at the woman.

"Are you awake?" he asked softly, waiting for a response.

Jane, she was already thinking of herself in terms of that name, raised and lowered her chin in what would pass for a nod. It was the best she could do without causing excruciating pain in her head.

"What happened?" She forced the words from her dry lips, desperate for answers. "And who are you? Do I know you?" She prayed he knew who she was, that he could provide her with the missing pieces of her identity. Sadly, that was not so.

She listened as he explained who he was and how he'd found her. Jane tried not to let the disappointment show on her face. There would be no answers tonight (was it night? She couldn't tell as her room had no windows).

"Who was the other..." What did she call him, the other victim? The other body? "The man with me?" Maybe if they knew his identity it would give her a clue as to her own.

Conner took a deep breathe and launched into his explanation. "We got a call about a shooting, and I went to check it out. When I got there, you and the deceased male were on the ground. You were beaten, he was shot. He died before getting to the hospital, you are here. Neither of you had identification, and don't show up in our system," he said, keeping it short and full of what was the truth.

He could see she wanted to know who she was, but he unfortunately didn't have that info. He wasn't going to talk her ear off either. He looked down at her and sighed. "Get some rest. I'll send the nurse in to check on you. If I find anything, I'll let you know," he said before walking out.

He rubbed his fingers against the stubble on his cheek as he tried to figure out what to do with this woman. He could tell that she was from a better income situation based on her looks. They were too well manicured to be from a middle or low income situation. He wasn't at liberty to guess though, and could tell that it would just cause her more discomfort than what she was already in.

He walked out and sent the nurse in before radioing his captain to figure out what needed to be done.

"Find a bed and hunker down. You're on duty at the hospital until we can figure out what to do with this jane doe," he said. Conner sighed as he walked to the information booth again. Luckily, a male nurse was working, and quickly pointed him to a room where the doctors often slept on the night shift.

He wearily made his way to the room, selecting the bed closest to the door as he waited. He stayed ready, and made sure that his radio was loud enough to wake him if he fell asleep. He checked his phone again, ignored the text from his sister, and then laid down to think on the past 48 hours.

She tried to sleep, but her rest was fitful. Constantly disturbed by nurses checking on her, the sounds of the machinery, and the shuffling of feet and voices in the hall kept Jane from getting more than a few minutes of rest at a time.

Her head still ached, her brain felt fuzzy, and her body ached from bruises that were turning a sickening yellow color. When the nurse had bathed her, Jane had seen the bruises and the wave of nausea that consumed her at the sight of them was almost too much for her to take. Her torso was covered in the bruises, marring the pale skin with the sickening blotches. The nurse said that they would fade in time, but Jane didn't think she'd ever get the image from her mind.

Nor would she ever get the questions from her mind.

Her thoughts ran in circles as she tried to recover her memories of what happened. Any memory would do, in fact. Even if she could just remember what her favorite color was. Did she even have one? And what about family? Surely her family was looking for her. But no one had come to see her except for the officer who had found her.

Laying in the hospital bed, Jane could feel tears slowly streaming down her face. They fell from her cheeks, some landing on the lumpy pillow beneath her and others in her ears. It was too much. It was all too much. How was she supposed to live if she didn't know who she was? Everyone said her memories would come back. The doctors, the nurses, the cop, they all believed it. But Jane didn't. How could she when she was trying so hard and she still couldn't get even an inkling of who she was?

Her crying tired her out and sent Jane into a fitful sleep. She could feel herself floating away into the oblivion of a dreamless sleep.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, coming towards her room. She ignored them, determined to fall asleep no matter what those nurses did. The footsteps entered her room and moved towards her bed. A soft sigh escaped her cut lips as her subconscious readied her to be awoken.

And she was awoken, by a pillow covering her face, cutting off her air.

Connor was shaken awake. He immediately sprang up into a sitting position, his gun out of the holster. He looked at the male nurse who woke him up before standing up.

"Something happened, and someone tried to kill your jane doe. We were able to subdue him, but we can't keep it up much longer," the nurse said.

Connor nodded before holstering his weapon. He got his handcuffs out before following the nurse. He was lead to the bathroom inside the jane doe's room. He stepping into the bathroom and was greeted with a fist to his stomach. He shook it off before stepping to the side.

"Fuck!" the man attacking him said, as his fist connected with the solid wood of the door. Connor stepped into him and hit him with an uppercut to the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. As the man doubled over, Connor took him down, before easily rolling him over and cuffing him. He pulled out zip-ties and cuffed his ankles as well, to make sure he couldn't get away.

When he was satisfied the man wouldn't get away, he went to look Jane over. He smiled, seeing that she was okay, but scared and a little worse for wear. "Do you know why anyone would do this to you?" he asked, already knowing the answer. He still had to ask though, following procedure.

After getting his reply, he went back into the bathroom and questioned the assailant, gaining nothing other than the fact that the man was a gun for hire, who knew nothing about his employer. He was given money and a room number in the hospital and told to kill the woman in the room.

Connor sighed before radioing his station to have a car come pick the guy up. He sat down in the chair next to Jane's bed before getting more comfortable.

"I'll be here, so go to sleep," he said quietly, making sure he could see the door, but remain unseen, as he sat waiting for anything else to happen.

Even though the pillow no longer covered her face, Jane felt as if she couldn't breathe. She struggled to catch her breath, fighting off the rising panic of nearly being smothered to death. Tears streamed down her face as the nurses tried to reassure her that everything was alright. Her body shook uncontrollably and goosebumps covered her flesh. She tried to calm down, but a brush with death was nothing to be calm about. Especially when it came on the cusp of her losing her memory due to a brutal beating.

Something was seriously wrong and Jane was, suddenly, afraid of regaining her memories. What would happen when she got her memory back and it turns out she had done, or was involved with, something horrible.

Cold fear surrounded her as the nurse settled her back down in the bed. Jane was certain she would never be able to sleep again.

The cop came in, Jane couldn't remember his name, and arrested the man who had attacked her. After everything had calmed down in the room, everything except for Jane's heart which continued to race inside her chest, the cop settled into a chair not far from her bed.

"I'll be here, so go to sleep," he said quietly.

The fact that he'd situated his chair close to the door, but in a way that he would not be seen by anyone coming in, did not go unnoticed by Jane.

"You think someone else will try, don't you?" She said, her voice shaky as she eyed the door. She turned her head to meet his eye, noticing the way that he wouldn't return her gaze. "Maybe it would be better for everyone if I had just died. Then none of this would be happening."

Turning onto her side, her back to the officer, Jane pulled the sheets up over her shoulders and closed her eyes, trying not to remember the way the pillow had felt as it covered her face or the smell of antiseptic and laundry detergent that had filled her nose.

Connor just shook his head. He hated the way she had thought that being dead would fix everything. From a selfish point of view, it would mean a lot more paperwork for him, and it would be a victim that he lost when he could have prevented it. He knew she needed to sleep, but decided that she needed to hear it.

"It wouldn't be good, or easier, or whatever, if you were dead. You'd be dead, and we'd be no closer to finding out who did this. As for your question, I don't think it will happen again, but I want to be in a place where I can make sure I stop it," he said simply.

He turned the lights off, knowing that he would be fine for the rest of the night, before a squad car would bring two more officers, probably recruits or people on shit detail, to let him get some shut eye. He knew he would need some after dealing with this woman. Jane had already found a way to drain him of energy, simply with her negative view of things.

So what if she didn't recover her memories. It was better than her dying to make others feel better. It wouldn't make anything better, and she'd be dead. He shook his head, knowing the value of human life. He had already lost a friend and fiancee to homicide several years ago, and knew that it didn't do anything but make people angry, hurt, and vengeful.

He settled down, derailing that train of thought. Instead, he remembered a mental exercise his sensei had taught him when he was growing up. It helped him focus, but also helped with his memory. He sat doing that, watching the nursing shifts change, waiting for the next detail to come relieve him.

When they came, he nodded before looking at Jane. She was still asleep, and he made sure both the officers knew that only her personal doctor and the red-haired nurse were allowed in the room, as per agreements between the chief and the head of the hospital. He went back to his bed and laid down, resting for as long as he could before being needed.

"Looks like you're gonna be gettin' outta here today." Mona, the red haired nurse, said as she stood beside Jane's bed reading notes off a chart she held.

It had been five days since Jane had woken up. Her body, while still sore, was slowly healing and, aside from her memory loss, there was nothing wrong with her. At least nothing that the doctors could cure. Which left Jane at a crossroads. Where did she go from here? Where could she go? In the five days that she'd been in the hospital nobody had showed to lay claim to her. In fact, her only visitors were Officer Mason and the other officers that took turns watching over her after her other visitor, the would be killer, had made his appearance.

So now what? Jane was back to wondering where she would end up, what she would do. Without her memories she had no idea where she lived or what she did for a living. And now she was going to be tossed out with nowhere to go. And who was going to pay the hospital bill, which had to be an astronomical amount as Jane had no clue if she had health insurance.

The thoughts whirling through her brain were starting to make her head hurt and Jane closed her eyes with a groan.

As if summoned by her distress, Officer Mason appeared in the doorway of her room.

"Good morning, Officer." Mona greeted him with a flirtatious smile. Mona had to be at least fifty-five, but that didn't deter her from flashing a smile at the handsome cop whenever he was around. "I take it you heard the news, are girl is getting out today."

Jane felt his eyes on her and, though she wanted nothing more than to be invisible and shrink away into the shadows, she met his gaze.

"Great news, isn't it." Jane said, the sarcasm heavy in her voice, "Now I can set up a cardboard box on the street and wait for whoever wants me dead to come knocking."

"You're staying with me. Chief's orders. Once you're released, we'll drive to my place, and we can get you situated," Connor said to Jane, ignoring Mona. He liked Mona, but knew she was married and had a daughter his age. The flirting was harmless, but he still tried to dissuade her from doing it, especially because she could be a little over the top at times.

He smiled tightly, not exactly happy with the news. He hadn't told his family, due to not keeping in touch with them. He also didn't like the idea of them getting ideas about Jane. He was just keeping her safe until she knew who she was.

He had extra space, especially after renovating his house. He just wondered if she would be comfortable there. It was definitely a man's home, and he didn't really have any qualms about it being that. He had his hobbies, namely his martial arts, as well as his library of videos and books. He was also a huge DIY guy, and had a huge workshop in his garage.

He waited for Mona to release Jane, before grabbing her things and waiting for her. "We are parked in the private lot, and I'm the big silver Chevy. I'll be right behind you, so we can leave once you're ready," he said calmly and quietly to Jane.

The attendant wheeled Jane out to the hospital entrance; the gray sky and pattering rain were a perfect backdrop to her own mood. After days of laying in a hospital bed with Mona only letting her up to go to the bathroom and the occasional walk around her room, Jane was tired of sitting, tired of laying down, and tired of not feeling in control of her own life. No one had outright said that Jane had to stay with Officer Mason, but the way in which he'd told her the situation had made it implied. But what other choice did she have? Jane had no where to go and staying with the officer, who was at least a little attractive, was better than a park bench somewhere.

After wheeling her out and making sure the wheelchair was locked, the attendant returned to the hospital, leaving Jane to sit by herself until Officer Mason pulled his car around. Sitting out there, all on her own, she felt completely exposed and all too aware of how she looked. The bruises had faded for the most part, but her skin was still tinged a delightful mustard yellow. When Jane had surveyed herself in the mirror earlier she imagined that her face looked just like a person's hands after trying to wash off paint, a faded color that was still noticeable to the naked eye. Her hair was a complete mess, she'd tried running a brush through it, but there had been so many snags and tangles that she had been sorely tempted to grab the nearest pair of scissors - not that there were any - and hack off whatever she could reach. The clothes that she'd been admitted in were trashed. They'd been too covered in blood for anyone to salvage. So, Jane was dressed in some of the old clothes that Mona had brought her, clothes that no self-respecting woman in her fifties had any right owning. Along with the few items that were packed away in a bag that Mona had brought, Jane was dressed in a frayed jean mini-skirt and a tank top. She looked, at least in her mind, like a whore and was not comfortable in the least. Once she was settled at Officer Mason's, Jane was determined to make a shopping trip her number one priority. Memories be damned, she needed clothing that actually covered her.

After what seemed like forever, the silver Chevy that was Officer Mason's car pulled up in front of her. Jane moved quickly to the passenger's door and climbed inside, not wanting to spend one more second in that god-forsaken wheelchair where everyone passed by her with pitying looks.

"So, I guess if I'm living you I should call you something other than Officer Mason, huh." She said, buckling in as he pulled the car out of the parking lot. Her whole time in the hospital, Jane had only known him as Officer Mason, the serious, no-nonsense cop that watched over her like a hawk. They hadn't really spent much time in conversation, talking only as little as possible, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. But now, time stretched before them and Jane didn't know what to think. What would they talk about? Would they even talk? It was all to confusing for her poor, damaged brain.

Connor had started to unbuckle his seatbelt to help Jane into the truck, but when he saw that she was already up and out, he let her do it. He knew what it was like to finally be able to get out of that type of situation and move forward. He waited until she was buckled in before taking off, the big diesel engine roaring to life as it was fed fuel. When he heard her question, he just answered, "Connor," without looking at her, focused solely on his own thoughts.

He hadn't lived with a woman in a long time, and wasn't sure how things were going to work out. He shrugged to himself, figuring things would work themselves out as they happened. He knew right away that she needed new clothes, and was happy to see that that would be provided for. He had plenty of money, but didn't know if she would let him buy her clothes, or anything for that matter. Instead, all her needs would be taken care of by the police station for the time being.

He sighed softly as he started to think about how to plan everything. He did have the spare bedroom, so he'd just need to put sheets on the bed. He'd also have to buy new pillows, as the old ones were well used and ready to go anyways. He realized he also needed food, as she probably wouldn't like his odd tastes. As he started compiling a mental list, he realized this could be harder than he thought.

He reached over into the glove box while they were stopped, and pulled out a pen and pad of paper. "Write down the foods you think sound good, the types of entertainment that might interest you, and anything else that you think you'd need, aside from clothes and toiletries," he said quietly, trying to figure out everything exactly that would be needed.

He heard the pen scribbling on paper as he pulled through the intersection. He quickly zoned out as he drove, reaching his house quickly and efficiently. He killed the engine before hopping out of the cab and making his way to her door. He opened it and offered his hand, before saying, "home."

"Write down the foods you think sound good, the types of entertainment that might interest you, and anything else that you think you'd need, aside from clothes and toiletries." His voice was quiet and Jane could barely hear it over the sounds of traffic around them.

Tapping the pen on the pad of paper he handed her, Jane considered what she should write down. How did she know what sounded good or what might keep her entertained? She could always use this moment, however, to do or try things she never would have if she had her memories...or maybe she was the adventurous type and this would be a chance she would have jumped at. The thoughts circling themselves in her brain made Jane dizzy. Deciding that it was a win-win situation no matter what she chose, she began to scribble down the first things that popped into her brain. The task kept her busy for the rest of the ride, which she was grateful for as the drive had been filled with uncomfortable silence as neither she nor Connor knew what to say to each other.

"Home."

Connor's single word pulled Jane from her writing and she realized that she had filled nearly three pages with things she wanted to try.

Glancing out the window, Jane took in the house sitting before her. It was a modest home, but seemed welcoming all the same. Jane couldn't help but wonder what her own home looked like...if she even had one.

Climbing out of the car, she followed Connor inside the front door, taking in the obvious bachelor pad feel. If she had wondered about it before, it was now painfully obvious that Officer Mason was single. Jane was unsure of how she felt staying with a man who had no woman in his life. Just the two of them, all alone in the house, could get uncomfortable. But, for the moment, Jane had other things to focus on, such as regaining her memories, and finding a bathroom.

"Um...where's your restroom?" She asked softly, the fact that she had to pee had snuck up on her during the drive. With Connor's direction, she quickly found the bathroom and, after taking care of business, decided to take the time to poke around. Jane had a feeling that she was a nosy person, a fact that she was made certain of as she opened up the medicine cabinet and sifted through the items inside.

Her curiosity satisfied, at least for the moment, she moved out of the bathroom and back into the living room to find Connor. But he wasn't there.

"Connor?" She called softly, a sudden fear gripping her. The walls began to close in on her and the breath caught in her throat. She hadn't been alone, even for a moment, since she'd woken in the hospital. Jane could feel her heart beating rapidly inside her chest as she glanced around the living room, searching.

"Connor?" Her voice cracked with building fear, her body beginning to shake. What was happening to her? Jane couldn't control the fear that was quickly swallowing her. Tears sprung to her eyes, falling in rapid waterfalls down her cheeks. Her knees felt weak and Jane felt herself falling to the floor, collapsing on herself.

The fact that her body was rebelling scared Jane. The fear was irrational and Jane knew that, but her body refused to admit to it. It was as if her mind and body were reacting to something that Jane didn't remember.

"Oh god," Jane wrapped her arms around herself, rocking on the floor, tears streaming down her face as she prayed for the feeling to pass.

Connor heard Jane call for him and immediately stepped out of his room, shirt in hand and jeans unbuttoned. He could hear the fear in her voice, and when he walked into the living room it was confirmed. She looked like a complete mess. He stepped towards her, and could see her body unconsciously drawing away from him.

"Jane, I'm right here, and I won't hurt you," he said calmly, trying to soothe her. He finally got next to her and wrapped her in a hug, holding her, letting her know that she was secure, and wouldn't be hurt. He picked her up gently before walking her to the guest bedroom. He figured that she needed rest to calm down, and gently laid her down on the bed.

He stayed with her, holding her as he softly started to hum while rubbing her back. He wanted her to feel safe with him, and didn't know any other way than to let her know he was there for her and wouldn't hurt her. He realized she had fallen asleep when he heard her regular, deep breathing. He quickly slid out from under her, careful not to wake her, as he went to start making what food he had.

He decided to not worry about it, knowing that he needed to just be himself. He changed back into the shorts he was going to wear, opting out of a shirt. He stood over the stove, making some noodles to eat as he tried to figure out how to help Jane cope with what she had been through.

He didn't have any experience, and knew that he would end up messing things up if he tried to take control. Instead, he fixed a cup of coffee after finishing his noodles. He left a note on the end table next to Jane's bed letting her know he was just outside, and started to read a book as he waited for Jane to find him.

Jane's eyes opened slowly, her lids heavy with exhaustion. She groaned as the soft light of the setting sun invaded her vision. Her throat felt scratchy and her eyes crusted. Struggling to sit up, the memory of her break down flooded back. Jane had no idea what had set her off or why it had even happened in the first place, but some unknown fear had gripped her and caused her panic attack. If only she knew the cause.

Seeing Connor's note, Jane picked it up and read it quickly. He had been so kind, so compassionate, wrapping her in his arms and trying to comfort and reassure her. Jane knew she'd never be able to repay him for everything he had already done for her. The scales would forever balance in his favor.

Stretching out the kinks in her back and neck, Jane moved around the room to find the bag of clothes that Mona had given her. She tried to find something that looked comfortable, but everything was too tight looking. Right then, Jane wanted nothing more than a pair of baggy sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Figuring that she already deeply in debt to Connor, Jane moved through the house until she found his room. Going through his dresser she found what she was looking for, a pair of gray sweatpants and an over-sized t-shirt. After pulling on the clothes, she wound her hair up into a messy bun and decided to find Connor and see if she could get something to eat as her stomach was making its emptiness known.

She saw him sitting outside, dressed in only a pair of shorts, and she couldn't help marveling at the way his body looked in the fading sun. Biting her lip, she moved through the sliding glass door to join him on the deck.

"I hope you don't mind," Jane said coming to sit in the chair beside him, "but I borrowed some of your clothes. Mona's stuff isn't very comfortable." Her smile was soft and shy, as she was suddenly aware of how intimate a moment this would be if they were anyone else.

Connor smiled softly, nodding his head. He forgot what it was like to see a woman in his clothes, and lost himself for a minute just looking at her. It struck him hard how much he missed her. "I wish things had been different," he said softly to himself. He finally shook his head and looked back at Jane and smiled.

"What we need to do is run into town and get you some clothes of your own," he said smiling. He wasn't going to bull through a response until she said yes, but he would let her know that the finances were taken care of. He knew how uncomfortable she was with the stuff Mona packed, and to be honest, he was too.

He thought for a minute and then smiled sheepishly as his stomach started to grumble. "If you'd be okay with it, we can go to the mall in town, get you some clothes, toiletries, and stop at the food court for dinner. We can finish the shopping out with anything else we need," he said, thinking that it would solve most of the problems. They could worry about food tomorrow.

He stood up, stretching his long frame out. He heard the popping in his back and groaned softly. It had been some time since he had slept in a comfy spot, or a bed for that matter, as he slept in her room for the remainder of her stay after the man attacked her.

He sighed as the muscles in his back felt like they slid back into place now that his back was more loose. He smiled down at her and then went to pull on a tank top, and slipped into some sandals. He realized he had an old pair of sandals, from her before everything happened. He smiled tightly at Jane and then said, "I have a pair of women's sandals if you'd like to wear them while we go to the mall," he said.

He waited for an answer as he rubbed his hand over his face, making a mental note to pick up a new razor and shaving cream. His old one had lost most of its sharpness, and he needed a shave badly. He ran a finger through his hair and then smiled, happy that the haircut still felt semi new.

Sitting in the car once more, Jane tried not to think about the woman who had worn the sandals she now donned. But the questions came to her anyway, at least she kept from asking them aloud. Though it was extremely difficult. Who had she been? Was it possible that Connor had been married once? Did they belong to an old girlfriend? Or did they belong to a current girlfriend?

Pulling her hair out of her face, Jane twisted the brown locks into a makeshift bun and tucked the strands securely in place. The action felt so familiar, like one she'd done numerous times before. The thought gave her pause and she tried to recall doing it before, but, as usual, her mind was a blank.

She glanced at Connor, his eyes focused firmly on the road ahead. He was just as much a mystery as she, and Jane found herself wanting to learn more about him. The way that he had looked at her, dressed in his clothes, had sent a shiver down her spine. A shiver that wasn't completely unwanted.

Now, as they pulled into the mall parking lot, their drive having passed in complete silence, Jane couldn't help wondering what was going through his head.

"So..." Jane paused, her voice sounding extremely loud as it broke the silence. "Where should we start?"

The mall was massive and Jane was fairly certain that she would get completely turned around if Connor didn't take the lead. Not to mention, she had no clue where anything was.

Connor smiled Jane's helpless expression, before patting her hand. He realized the gesture, and pulled his hand away slowly. "How about we start with clothes? There's a chain store, or there are a few local stores that we have. I think the chain store will have a better selection, but we can swing by the local shops after for anything we specifically need," he said.

He got out of the truck, making a mental note to also get the toiletries they needed, as the chain store also carried them. He knew she needed a razor, shaving cream, shampoo, conditioner, soap, and the like, as well as knowing what he needed.

He walked to Jane's side of the truck and smiled as he opened the door for her, before holding out his hand. It didn't dawn on him that he used to do this gesture all the time with her. He waited patiently, making the mental note longer as he tried to think of what all they could eat for lunches and dinners.

He also knew that the captain had given him the next two weeks off, so as to make sure Jane was comfortable. It had been the captain's order to make sure that nothing was bothering her, and that she wasn't trying to remember anything too hard. He had been told to keep her safe as well, and that was what he was going to do.

He smiled back at her as he waited. "Are you ready to go shopping for new clothes?" he asked.

Jane browsed the racks, quickly flipping through the clothes, eager to find what she needed and get out of there. Unlike so many of the women in the store, Jane wasn't findin the experience overly exciting. If anything, the process of looking at and trying on clothes was exhausting. She wondered, though, if she'd always felt this way or if this hate of shopping was a result of her memory loss.

After making her final decision she made her way to where Connor sat, patiently waiting.

"I'm ready." She said quietly, indicating the stack of clothes in her arms. Jane couldn't help feeling embarrassed as Connor paid for the clothes. There was something that didn't set right with her about behind beholden to someone. She did not like feeling that now she owed Connor for his kindness, though he wasn't the one actually purchasing the clothing for her.

As they left the store, Jane excused herself and headed into the restroom. Ripping the tags off a pair of dark wash skinny jeans and a plum-colored V-neck t-shirt, she quickly donned the clothing and felt a million times better for it. It was nice to get out of someone else's clothing and into something that was her own, something that felt right to wear.

Gathering up her bags, she made her way out of the restroom to where Connor stood in the mall's food court.

"I guess shoes are next." She grimaced, glancing down at her feet and the borrowed sandals that were a size too small. If clothes shopping was bad, shoe shopping was sure to be a nightmare.

"Why do women enjoy this so much?" She muttered, more to herself than Connor. "Dante could have used it to create a tenth circle of hell."

In the back of her mind, lines from Dante's Inferno floated through her thoughts and Jane couldn't help the slow smile that tugged at her lips. She was remembering something. Granted it wasn't a life altering memory, but still, at some point in her life she had studied Dante and the thought of herself snuggled up with the text engulfed her and, for once since all this had happened, Jane could feel hope returning.

Connor noticed the murmurs that Jane had said, smiling. He knew all about the Divine Comedy, having read it in high school for a project, and enjoying it immensely. He decided to keep quiet after seeing her smile, knowing she was remembering something about her past.

"Well, we can either get shoes, or food. It's up to you," he said, thinking that food might be a good break for her from her shopping. It was refreshing to know that he wouldn't be in the stores for hours on end while she tried stuff on.

He waited patiently, idly replaying parts of the Comedy in his head, reflecting on the 9 circles of hell: Limbo, Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Anger, Heresy, Violence, Fraud, and Treachery. It surprised him that he was still able to remember all of the circles.

He looked at her, smiling softly as he saw her reaching her decision.

"Food," she replied quickly. The very thought of trying on shoe after shoe was enough to make her scream. Plus, she was starving and ready for a break. As if to agree with her, her stomach rumbled, causing Jane to blush.



After another couple of hours passed, Jane was, happily, tucked away in Connor's car and on the way back to his place, the backseat loaded with the fruits of their labor. Glancing back at the bags that covered the backseat, Jane wondered, not for the first time, whether or not this aversion to shopping was something new or if it carried over from the life she couldn't remember.

Her thoughts were looped around like a carousel, always wondering when she would remember her past and half-afraid that, when she did, she would wish she hadn't. Though Jane wanted to remember who she had been, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something dark lingering in the corner of her former life. Something that was biding its time until it could jump out and get her.

"Do you think I'll ever remember?" She asked quietly. "Do you think I'll ever remember who I am or where I came from?" Her eyes moved to Connor's face, watching him as he maneuvered through the afternoon traffic.

Connor was relegated to carrying bags for the rest of the day after the stopped and got food. He was okay with that though. It kept his hands full, and his thoughts occupied on other things. He was wondering what would happen when Jane remembered everything. She seemed to hate shopping currently, and he wondered if that carried over from something else.

As the loaded up the truck, he smiled. The whole back seat was full of bags and boxes. He chuckled before holding her door open then climbing into his side. He knew traffic wouldn't be too bad, but it would still take a little while for them to get home, at least longer than it took to get to the mall.

Connor heard her question and thought for a minute. "I do think you'll remember. I think that you're still recovering, and that you'll start to get things back slowly, before it all comes back to you. Just take your time, don't try to push your mind, and enjoy the present," he said softly, stopping at a red light.

He looked over at her and took her hand softly, squeezing it to try to reassure her. He didn't want her to stress about this. It would take the natural course of things, and if she tried to rush it, things would just get worse. He didn't want that to happen to her, so tried to let her know he was there for her.

Jane looked down at their entwined fingers, finding a sort of comfort in Connor's touch and the reassuring image. She smiled up at him, suddenly very shy, and felt a warmth flowing from her fingertips up her arm.

"Thank you," she said, her voice soft, her eyes on fixed firmly on his. "Thank you for everything. I know that babysitting me is the last thing that you want to do, but I appreciate it."

Embarrassed of the tears that began to surface, Jane ducked her head, allowing the curtain of her hair to hide her face. "I don't know what I would do if you weren't helping me." Her voice, husky with emotion, broke as the tears began to fall down her cheeks.

Connor pulled to the side of the road, away from traffic and slid across the seat. He wrapped his arms around Jane, hugging her softly. "I'm not babysitting you, and I'm happy to help. I'm just trying to help you get back on your feet, and make sure you have a place to stay, that's all," he said, rubbing her back softly.

He didn't know why he was doing this, as he normally was closed off with people. He chastised himself inwardly for thinking that, and realized he needed to be a bit more open, especially with a housemate.

"Jane, look at me," he said, tilting her chin and moving her hair. "You and I are housemates. I'm not babysitting you, you're not babysitting me. We are grown ups just living life. Don't worry about my helping you. I want to, and you'd be doing just fine without me. You're a very strong woman, just so you know," he said, smiling and wiping her tears from her eyes softly.