I'd Do Anything
The rain was falling in sheets, pounding onto her cool bare arms. The darkness seemed to be closing in, and the brief flashes of green and purple light were getting more frequent. There was a scream, and someone was standing in front of her in a black cloak, threatening her. There was a loud popping sound just as the woman yelled the word `Obliviate' and everything faded.
Kate woke with a start. Her hand instinctively rising to her face she ran her hands through her short curly hair, feeling the sweat on her clammy forehead. It had been almost a year since she'd last had the dream. She had thought it was all behind her - those two years when every night she would wake crying as the image faded. She still grasped to understand the tears falling as the image faded, surely she should feel relief that she was escaping, but all she felt was an unexplained sense of loss. She closed her eyes to her darkened bedroom, and tried once more to explore the image, fresh in her mind, there had to be some clue, some explanation as to why it had haunted her for four years. She tried to recapture it, tried to look beyond the figure in black, for after years of searching she knew there was no clue there - her doctor had frequently observed that the woman was another version of herself - but Kate knew that was rubbish, she wouldn't be running away from…well, whatever she had left behind. The most frustrating thing was being able to see shapes moving in the background behind the woman - they must be people - why couldn't she see them - they could be the key to ending these nightmares. They seemed slightly clearer, but she knew she was only imagining, hoping. For, despite a years break, she would spend moments every day thinking of the images, and every night as she fell asleep she would anxiously dread its return, whilst some part of her, deep inside, desperately wanted to see those images one last time, to try and explain it.
She opened her eyes once more and sighed deeply, sitting up in bed, untangling her legs from the sheets. It was time to head back to the clinic. There must be something someone could do; maybe something different would show up in the scans this time, she had to hold out hope. Climbing out of bed, she padded barefoot down the short hallway to the kitchen and filling the kettle prepared to make a cup of tea.
Holding the warm mug in her hands she sat at her desk, and looked at the computer screen in front of her. She might as well do some work, she'd never get back to sleep now. Swiftly she checked her e-mails and replied to the queries from her Editor, and the publishing company confirming the typeface and dust jacket text for the book. She sighed once more, and rested her face in her hands. The Book. It was finished, well, her Editor thought it was finished, and what more could she possibly add to it now, there could be no other possible ending. Her heroine couldn't simply instantly recover from her amnesia and live happily ever after - the happily ever after had to be self made, and it had to stem from the new life she'd created for herself…if only…but, then again, would she really want to give up the search for what once was, not knowing what she was leaving behind…There was no point stressing about it now, the deal was complete, the book was going to be printed next week, and it would be on book shelves by the end of the month. That was the trouble with being too closely and emotionally connected to your subject matter - pretending to write fiction, when really she was simply writing to try to reveal her own past. One of the specialists had said that a creative outlet, writing or painting might help to unlock some of the secrets of her past so she had faithfully written in her diary every night, recorded her years of uncertainty, never knowing whether a woman she walked by on the street was her friend, sister, mother… She had developed an almost morbid fascination with wondering what they were doing now, if she had a family, did they still think she was alive, had they said their goodbyes? It had been four years; surely they would have given up hope that she would be found alive…had they mourned her? Had they had a funeral?
It was impossible to process the emotions passing through her, for so many of her emotions appeared to be connected to a past she no longer understood. Why did she feel so at home in Scotland when all the experts had assured her she must be from Southern England due to her accent? Why did she get tearful in large railway stations? The consensus from the memory and brain injury specialists was that she was feeling a unique combination of nostalgia and déjà vu, a feeling only experienced by those suffering from long-term memory loss. Long-Term. Those two words that had crushed all her hopes, and reduced her to a mass of curls and tears in her hospital bed all those years ago. Alone, afraid, and stranded in a country that apparently wasn't her own. There was no record of her having travelled into America, no passport, no I.D, no connection, no reason for her to bed there. Her accent and skin tone identifying her as British. It had been four months before she had returned to British soil after being discovered unconscious on remote farmland.
Everyone had hoped that returning to her home country would trigger some memories, but so far, nothing. She had almost given up hope, but every time she felt that odd combination of déjà vu and nostalgia she felt compelled to drop everything and search out the reasons - the answer - her past.
She removed her face from her hands and looked up once more into the dimly lit room. Dawn light was now beginning to creep through the small gap between the lazily drawn curtains. Kate focused once more on the computer screen before her and resolutely opened a blank window - it was time to start working again. The publishers loved her book, and they'd offered her a three book deal…it was a fantastic opportunity, and a fantastic amount of money which would finally pay off all those outstanding medical bills which kind specialists had not pressured her over until she was settled. But, what could she write about now. Write about what you know - that was the old adage, but what did she know? She knew everything there was to know about forgetting and not knowing anything about yourself, but she had exhausted that subject now. It was time to truly exercise her creative muscles and create something truly fictional.
Three hours was too long to have spent staring at a blank screen, and with a flush of anger at herself she abruptly shut the lid of the laptop and left the room. Standing under the powerful water jets in the shower she cried silently. She only ever cried silently anymore - it had been bad enough all those nights in hospital without strangers trying to comfort her, so she had learnt to conceal her fear and pain. By the time she got out of the shower Tom would be up and getting ready for work. She felt awful putting her best friend through all of this again, but she had to follow every instinct when it came to her amnesia, it was the only chance she had.
"Morning." She called as she made her way to the kitchen half an hour later.
"Morning. You were up early this morning? Working again?" Tom asked as he handed her a slice of toast, lightly buttered, as she liked it.
"I had the dream…the nightmare." She said softly. Tom froze with a piece of toast halfway to his mouth.
"Oh Kate." He put the toast down and wrapped an arm around her shoulders comfortingly.
"I thought I'd go in and see Dr. Jeremy this morning."
Tom nodded thoughtfully.
"If we leave in the next few minutes I can come with you before my shift starts."
Kate smiled gratefully at her friend.
"Thanks."
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"Well Kate, as it's been so long since your last visit we'll do a complete workup, all the tests, and a general check-up. See if we can figure out what triggered the return of the dream."
Kate smiled gratefully at the doctor she'd come to know so well since her return to England. Elizabeth Jeremy had been unfailingly patient with Kate, and was always available to talk.
"You haven't met our new nurse yet have you? Well, actually she's been with us a few months, but she's new to you. Jennifer, this is Kate and Tom, why don't you take a few moments to familiarise yourself with Kate's notes while we get the machines warmed up. You know the drill Kate." Kate nodded and smiled at the new nurse before heading out the side door to change into a hospital gown. Once changed she leant her head against the cool wall. Was she sending everyone on a wild goose chase by coming back here? She hated feeling uncertain. She had felt certain of so few things in the last few years, choosing Dr. Jeremy had been one of them, for some reason she had felt instantly at ease as soon as she walked into the waiting room of the clinic on Grimmauld Place for her initial consultation. She was disturbed from her daydream as Jennifer entered the examination room.
"Hi." Kate said with a smile.
"Hi. Dr. Jeremy said we should just get started with the basic facts while everything's powering up." Kate nodded with a smile.
"I'm used to the system now." Jennifer smiled understandingly before beginning the basic height, weight measurements.
"I hate to gossip, but, who's the man you were with?" Jennifer asked a little breathlessly. Kate looked up at the nurse and smiled.
"Tom? He's my best friend. He's an anaesthetist in the Burns Unit next door."
"Really? I'm surprised I've never seen him before then."
"He's single." Kate teased with a smile, seeing Jennifer's eyes sparkle at the news.
"Well, I might have to pop next door one lunch break then." They shared a smile and Kate felt relaxed and comfortable.
"You have the most amazing teeth."
"Thanks. My parents were dentists."
Kate froze and her brown eyes flew open, meeting Jennifer's startled blue eyes.
"You - you didn't know that before?" Jennifer asked uncertainly.
Kate shook her head, her hands trembling. Jennifer took one and squeezed it kindly.
"It's ok. I'll just go get Tom and Dr. Jeremy. I'll be right back Kate."
She barely remembered Tom and Dr. Jeremy rushing into the room with Jennifer, and the numerous tests and scans passed in a blur. Almost like she was floating above everything, not really a part of it. She had remembered something. Her parents were dentists. Were. The past tense had snuck its way into her consciousness. Were her parents' dead? A sense of loss overcame her as she tried to register that it was likely she had lost and grieved over parents she couldn't remember.
She barely registered the test results that Dr. Jeremy gently revealed. The cloud across part of her brain had changed shape. She had nodded and spoken in all the gaps in conversation, but her mind was focused on that tiny piece of memory that had broken through the barrier in her head. Her parents were dentists. She assured Tom that she would be fine on her own for the rest of the day as they parted at the front door, and she walked a few steps before sitting down on the low wall in front of the clinic entrance. The cloud had changed shape, it hadn't technically got any smaller, so it couldn't medically be considered progress, but the fact there was any change at all after so many years was promising Dr. Jeremy had said, although she had no evidence to back up her statement. Cases like Kate's were extremely rare, and there was not always any apparent cause, no excessive head trauma, no genetic imperfection, they really had no idea what was going on in her head, but then again, neither did she.
Her parents were dentists. She sat and tipped her heart shaped face up to the sun, smiling for the first time. As odd as it seemed, even knowing that they were gone she felt better just knowing the tiniest thing about them, knowing that she hadn't forgotten them completely. Knowing that there was still reason to hope.
That's where she was sitting when he walked past, a tall man, in his mid twenties, his black hair lay in a mess atop his head, a preoccupied look in his face as he walked along the pavement on the other side of the road. As he neared his destination he turned quickly and his eyes alighted on the young woman sitting gazing at the sky, not seeing him, and his heart stopped. It would just be another look alike, just like all the other times, he had to stop doing this. He sighed and his heart contracted as he let another fragment of hope drop away, he took three steps before turning once more, and staring across the road to where the young woman had stood, and as he watched she stretched her arms above her head, locked her fingers together and yawned as she stretched. He watched transfixed. It was her. It was finally her.
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