Cade felt like scum. Strachey had been pretty matter-of-fact about the whole thing, strangely so, but he’d seen the pain behind the calm words. It was as if the other man had expected all along for Tim to leave him; maybe he had. Cade only knew a little of his history, but having your lover kill himself on the day you get discharged from the army had to take serious chunks out of your sense of self-worth.
He’d had the urge to call out after the guy, stop him from leaving, but had stifled it. There wasn’t anything either of them could do, after all. He didn’t have any feelings for Strachey and it wouldn’t be any kindness to pretend he that did.
Not that I could, Cade admitted to himself. Strachey seems to know me better than I know myself right now.
And that galled the hell out of him. Cade wasn’t used to anyone knowing him intimately except for Hannah. It didn’t just tick him off that he’d been someone else for eight years, but that he’d lived a lie to everything he’d ever been before. Being involved in politics was almost as ludicrous as being involved with another man.
Cade snorted and thought, At least Strachey seems like a stand-up guy.
That’s more than I can say for any politicians I know.
The door opened just then and Dr. Thomas walked in, smiling. “Afternoon, Tim. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Cade answered honestly. “The head’s down to a dull roar now.”
Dr. Thomas chuckled and said, “That’s good. I want a couple more tests, but if you continue to improve, there’s no reason you shouldn’t go home tomorrow. I do, however, need to ask you about the scarring. It indicates that you’ve had brain surgery, but we found no record of it in your medical history.”
Since it had happened when Cade
was a kid, of course there’d be no record of it in Tim Callahan’s past.
Thinking fast, he answered, “I was in
“I would try not to get hit on the head again,” Dr. Thomas quipped, “but you should be fine.”
Cade nodded, grinning faintly. “I’ll remember that, doc.”
“Good. Now. How are your memories? What else have you remembered?”
Thinking about Eddie’s list, Cade answered, “I’ve got a sister, Kelly. She was missing until just recently. And Donald works with a young man named Kenny.”
“Kenny what?”
“Kwon.”
“That’s good, Tim. Anything else?” Dr. Thomas prompted, smiling.
Cade shook his head. “Not yet.”
Writing on the chart he’d picked up, Dr. Thomas told him, “It’ll come. It’s good that you’re remembering people, your personal relationships. How about Donald? I saw him leave a few minutes ago and he didn’t look very happy. How do you feel about him?”
It was easy to lie to the doctor; he didn’t have intense blue eyes that looked right through him. When Cade smiled more fully and said, “I love him. He’s been my other half for so many years now, don’t know what I would do without him,” the man didn’t even miss a beat.
Dr. Thomas nodded and wrote on the chart before saying, “I’m glad to hear that. You had us worried there for a while.”
“Sorry about that,” Cade said, leaning back against the pillows. “Good news is, things seem to be working out.”
The sharp look the doctor sent his way suddenly belied his easy-going manner, but the man only said, “Seems to be, yes. Well. I’ll let you get some more rest. The nurses will be by for those last tests.”
Cade forced a smile and replied, “I’ll be here.”
Dr. Thomas left then and Cade let out a sigh of relief. Just his luck to get a perceptive doctor, one that might be able to tell he was lying after all. Yawning, Cade closed his eyes and let himself drift into a light doze. There wasn’t much else to do and he knew he could use the sleep…
…the afternoon sun was warm as he and Hannah strolled down the street
hand-in-hand. Spring was slowly giving way to summer and it wouldn’t be long
before the buds on the trees blossomed and the warm air would turn sweltering.
This was Hannah’s favorite season and Cade always tried to spend as much time
outdoors with her as possible. Hannah’s hands squeezed his and he looked over
to meet her loving gaze. He felt so good, just being with her, making her
happy…
…it was cold as he and Donald walked hand-in-hand, along the edge of
the lake where they’d come to ski. He knew Donald hated the cold, but it was so
perfect in
…Cade jolted awake, heart pounding from the intensity of both dreams, short as they’d been. Hannah and Strachey. He couldn’t reconcile that the strength of emotions for them had been the same, if different in tenor. Shaking his head, Cade threw aside the sheets and scrambled to get the monitors off him, needing to get as far from the dream-memories as possible, desperate to clear his head of how interconnected they’d been.
He stumbled off the bed and ignored the loud protesting noises coming from the machines whose leads he yanked off. Cade rushed to the door and reached for it just as it thrust towards him. He didn’t jump back fast enough and the edge caught him right in the forehead, pain blossoming anew in his head. Losing his balance, Cade’s arms windmilled for a moment, but he fell backwards and his head cracked against the bed frame causing even more pain the slice through him.
“Mr. Callahan! Oh my God, are you all right?”
The voice came from far away as Cade squinted against the brightness of the overhead light. The young nurse, Michelle, seemed to be shouting something more, but he couldn’t hear it as darkness crept along the edge of his vision. He saw Mrs. Callahan rush in and kneel beside him, her expensive slacks probably getting dirty on the floor, but he couldn’t get his mouth to work before unconsciousness took him again.
* * * *
It was easy enough to compartmentalize the voice screaming inside him that he was about to be very, very alone. Don boxed it away on the drive to the office and by the time he arrived, he was calm and very, very focused. He jogged up the stairs and ignored Kenny’s surprised demand to know why he was there, slamming his inner office door shut and going right to his computer. It was new, one of two that Tim had insisted he get as an investment just the previous month. Kenny had been ecstatic when he’d come into the office that morning and found a shiny new laptop on his desk.
Don immediately brought up Google and typed in ‘Cade Foster, aliens’ and was shocked at the number of results that brought up; well over one hundred thousand. He picked a few at random and they were all blog entries from people about an alien invasion force and how Foster had personally rescued them from various, bizarre experiences.
Then he typed in ‘Paranoid Times’ and got over seven hundred and fifty thousand results. These were a mix of psychology sites and sites dedicated to aliens, conspiracies, and supernatural things. He did find an actual site called ‘The Paranoid Times’ with an archived journal section dedicated to Cade Foster. They were all from Foster himself, supposedly, and the last entry had been in 2001.
When his cell rang, he almost ignored it, but pulled it out and answered shortly, “What?”
“Don, it’s Dr. Thomas.”
Don stiffened and demanded, “What happened?”
“There was an accident and Tim hit his head again. Ah, twice actually. He’s frantic right now, demanding to see you. Apparently he doesn’t remember the last forty-eight hours at all,” the doctor answered.
On his feet at the first few words, Don ran out of the office and took the steps two at a time on the way down. He was at the car by the time the doctor finished speaking and said, “I’ll be there shortly. Tell him, tell him I love him and I’ll be right there.”
Because if Tim was back, who knew how long it might last.
“I will.”
Don tossed his phone in the passenger’s side and raced all the way to the hospital. He was lucky he didn’t get pulled over for speeding and reckless driving. Once at the hospital, he ran inside and up stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator. He dodged nurses and doctors and patients on the run down the hall to Tim’s room and skidded to a halt outside the door.
Opening the door, he found Tim with a pained expression in place, the one that said ‘migraine,’ and Don nearly collapsed in relief. Joy swept through him when Tim saw him and held out a hand in his direction, blue eyes filled with need and love. He rushed over to the bed and pulled the other man into his arms, holding tight, pressing his face to Tim’s throat.
“Donald? Hey, ssh, what’s wrong, baby?” Tim asked gently, his hand stroking up and down Don’s back. “Are you all right?”
Don held on a few more seconds, very close to losing it, and then let out a shaky breath. He sat back, but kept a hand on Tim’s leg as he answered, “I’m good, I’m good now. How’s your head?”
Tim squinted at him and said, “It’s killing me. As, apparently, it should given three injuries in twenty-four hours. Honestly, I realize that I’m not the most adept when it comes to balance, but this is ridiculous, even for me.”
The precise wording and bewildered tone were both very much his Timothy. Don laughed in happiness and cupped his lover’s face. “It is a little, yeah. I am just…so glad to see you, Timmy. You don’t even know. So what happened this time?”
Letting out an annoyed sigh, Tim answered, “It seems that I took off all my monitoring wires or what have you and was leaving the room when the nurse rushed in. My head met the door first and then the corner of the bed frame.”
“Ouch,” Don commiserated. Then he grinned. “Maybe I should kiss your booboos better?”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly what my head needs, thank you, Donald.”
Don couldn’t stand it anymore and leaned in to take Tim’s mouth in a hungry kiss that was equal parts relief and need. Tim made a startled noise, but settled into it easily, opening to the kiss without hesitation. A discreet throat clearing broke it apart and he looked over to find Dr. Thomas standing in the doorway. Rubbing the back of his neck in minor embarrassment, Donald said, “Sorry, Doc. Just makin’ sure he’s in working order.”
“Oh Donald, for Heaven’s sake,” Tim murmured, blushing.
Dr. Thomas chuckled as he walked over and replied, “I understand completely. The injuries didn’t start off any new bleeding in the brain, thankfully. I called you while Tim was getting out of the MRI and was just going over the results with a specialist to be certain.”
The news reassured Don. “Thanks, that’s good to know.”
Tim yawned, a hand going over his mouth to cover it, and then said, “I’m sorry, I am really exhausted.”
“That’s to be expected,” Dr. Thomas promised. “You get some sleep. Don, can I talk to you for a few minutes?”
Don didn’t really want to leave Tim’s side, not knowing if Foster would show up while he was gone, but also didn’t really have a choice. He nodded reluctantly and stood up, pointing a stern finger at Tim. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Tim smiled fondly. “I won’t, I promise. I’ll stay right here like a good little patient.”
Don followed Dr. Thomas outside the room and waited, knowing the man had something important just from the concerned expression on his face.
Dr. Thomas hesitated, maybe trying to get his thoughts in order, and then told him, “It’s the damnedest thing. The new CAT scan shows differences from the old one.”
Tensing, Don asked, “Is that bad? You said there was no new bleeding.”
Shaking his head, Dr. Thomas said, “Not bad, just…not right. It’s almost like looking at the scan of a completely different person. That coupled with the amnesia, altered posture, body language and verbal choices reminds me distinctly of a split personality. I can’t think of another explanation.”
Don forced a skeptical laugh and countered, “Couldn’t your machine just be on the fritz?”
“Possible, but not likely,” Dr. Thomas replied.
Arms folding over his chest, Don demanded, “So what’s that mean?”
“I would like to keep Tim for an additional couple of days to run more tests and keep an eye on him.”
Words that Don did not want to hear in the slightest. He shook his head and stated, “As soon as he’s physically fine, Tim’s coming home with me.”
“Don, this could be an amazing chance to study…”
“No!” Don interrupted fiercely. “No, he is not something to study, he’s my husband. It’s my job to look out for him and you poking and prodding is not doing that. When he’s physically okay, he’s coming home, do you understand me?”
Dr. Thomas’ mouth thinned into a line, but he nodded. “Of course. I’m sorry if I let my professional passions get the better of me. Tim’s well-being is, naturally, the only thing on my agenda. I just want to warn you though…whatever he went through the last twenty-four hours could happen again. The mind is the least understood organ in the body and three strong blows in such short time is not a good thing.”
Don forced himself to relax, letting his arms fall to his side and saying, “Understood. I’ll keep an eye on him, thanks,” before ducking back inside.
He walked over to the bed and sat on the mattress again, taking Tim’s hand.
Even though his eyes were closed, Tim smiled and his hand curled around Don’s as he murmured, “Glad you’re here.”
Don kissed him on the forehead, just off-side of the large bruise the cut through the center of it. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
* * * *
Tim woke up next with a throbbing headache, though the pain was muted in comparison to what he’d had before. The sky through the window was gray and heading towards sunset so he must have slept the rest of the afternoon. Shifting slightly, Tim found Donald slouched on an uncomfortable looking chair with his eyes closed. He smiled fondly and cleared his throat. As always, it was enough to wake Donald as he was such a light sleeper.
Donald squinted over at him, already smiling as he rumbled, “Hey there, sleeping beauty.”
Tim’s smile widened and he echoed, “Hey yourself. You look like hell.”
Snorting, Donald shifted from the chair to the bed and rested a hand on Tim’s thigh as he said, “You say the sweetest things.”
“I try,” Tim teased. “Have you slept since I got here?”
Don shrugged and answered, “Got a few hours this morning and just now. I’m good.”
Tim took his hand and squeezed it, admonishing, “You’re not good, you’re exhausted. At least I’m sleeping in a bed and not upright in a chair. Go home, honey. Get a real night’s sleep. Come back in the morning and take me home.”
Donald’s jaw flexed a couple of times before he admitted, “I’m afraid to.”
Astonished, Tim asked, “Why ever for?”
“I’m afraid you won’t be here when I get back,” Donald answered in a low voice.
It took a few seconds to understand that Donald meant he was afraid that the amnesia would return. Kissing the palm of Donald’s hand, Tim said, “Oh baby, I’ll be fine. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
Donald persisted with, “It’s not like you’d have a say in the matter. You would just wake up as…not you.”
Tim could see that his lover had been rattled very badly by what had happened. He must have said or done something to prompt this, but what, he couldn’t even imagine. Whatever it had been, it had clearly shaken Donald’s confidence in their relationship. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was; Donald could be amazingly insecure about his importance to Tim. Before he could respond, the door opened and Kelly poked her head in.
“Tim? Can I come in?” she asked hesitantly.
Smiling broadly at her, Tim exclaimed, “Of course! Come in, come in!”
Donald moved aside so Kelly could hug Tim, her lean frame still too-thin for Tim’s peace of mind. That was the big brother in him, according to Donald. That and the guilt he still felt at not having been there for her when she needed him. Even Tim knew that he was overcompensating, so he didn’t bring things like that up very often.
Kelly stepped back and asked, “Are you all right? Really? Don said you had amnesia!”
“I am fine,” Tim assured them both. “Truly. Other than a sizable headache, I’m perfect. No more amnesia. I promise.”
That last was aimed at Donald, who gave him a wry twist of the lips and saluted as he said, “Got the message. I am heading home and getting some sleep. Kelly, feel free to let yourself in and use the guest room.”
Tim smiled. “Thank you. Sleep well, honey.”
“I’ll sleep better when you’re home,” Donald answered simply. He leaned in to kiss Tim, a soft, lingering kiss, and then tweaked his nose before leaving the room.
Tim sighed a little once he was gone, already missing him. There was no disputing the presence Donald had; it filled the room, even when he was trying to be inconspicuous.
“I guess you’ll just have to make do with me.”
Glancing at Kelly, Tim smiled and patted the bed. “Which is just lovely. It’s been a whole week since we last talked, so fill me in. What’s going on with you?”
Kelly’s visit lasted only an hour or so because Tim couldn’t keep his eyes open. She finally kissed him goodbye and headed out around eight. He dozed for a while, drifting in and out as nurses came in to check on him. It was unfamiliar and uncomfortable, not having Donald in the bed with him, which was why he couldn’t fall deeply asleep.
“Foster. Hey, Foster. You awake?”
Tim yawned and opened his eyes, squinting at a tall, thin man with flyaway dark hair. “Who’re you?”
That stopped the man in his tracks and he stammered, “No one. Sorry. Wrong room. Thought you were someone else.”
Tim frowned as he watched the man leave the room but then shrugged it off. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been mistaken for someone else before. He just had one of those faces. Settling back against the pillows, Tim yawned and let himself drift off again.
* * * *
It was difficult to wait patiently for Donald to arrive to bring him home. Tim had woken that morning with only a minor headache and too much energy. He waited until eight thirty to call Senator Platt. The phone rang only twice before she picked up and he greeted cheerfully, “Good morning, Senator!”
“Tim! I am so glad to hear your voice!” she exclaimed. “Don said I should hold off visiting until today.”
Tim immediately told her, “No need to visit at all. The doctor is sending me home. As it’s Thursday, I plan to be back in the office by Monday. I would go in tomorrow, but I doubt Donald will let me leave the house by then.”
“As well he shouldn’t! You take your time getting better, Tim, we can’t afford to lose you.”
Warmed through by the sentiment, Tim promised, “I’ll be just fine, thank you.”
“Well good. You take care now.”
“I will.”
Tim hung up feeling much better now that that was out of the way. He hated waiting for things to happen, much preferred to be on the offensive. Donald might tease him about being a bulldog, but it was true. Once he got something in his teeth, he refused to let go until he’d accomplished what he set out to do.
“You look way too chipper so early in the morning.”
Beaming at Donald’s announcement, Tim held out a hand and ordered, “Come here, you beautiful man.”
Donald snorted, but continued walking over to him. Leaning on the bed, he kissed Tim gently and then said, “It’s good to see you looking like normal, other than the headgear.”
Tim rolled his eyes at that and said, “They better take most of that off. I refuse to look like some escaped mental patient.”
The words made Donald flinch for some reason, but he only commented, “I’m sure they’ll scale it back.”
Tim took a long moment to really look Donald over and didn’t like what he saw. “You didn’t get any sleep at all, did you?”
Donald half-grinned and rubbed the back of his neck as he admitted, “Couldn’t without you in bed too. Or, not well anyhow. I got a few hours, though.”
“Well. In that case, you and I will just have to make it an early night tonight,” Tim informed him firmly.
Chuckling, Donald acquiesced, “Far be it from me to argue with that.”
The door opened to let in Dr. Thomas who told them, “One final exam to be sure, some forms for you to fill out, and then you can be on your way. And don’t take this the wrong way, Tim, but I hope not to see you again.”
“At least not in this setting,” Tim agreed, smiling.
Dr. Thomas handed a clipboard to Donald and said, “Exactly.”
The exam didn’t last long, most of it was verbal, making sure he knew who he was, their address, the president, a few math problems and a couple of word problems. At the end of it, Tim laughed a little and said, “I feel like I’m back in high school and should call you Mr. Schultz.”
Dr. Thomas smiled. “We’re done here. I’ll have a nurse come in and change your bandages and then you can go home.”
While they waited for the nurse, Tim questioned, “Did you manage to clean up at all? I’m sure I must have bled on the carpet.”
Donald chuckled and said, “The carpet is cleaned until you pick a replacement. I told you not to get such a light color. Life is messy.”
Tim made a face at him. “Did you use a wetvac? And I have a very specific cleaning formula that can get rid of the worst stains. I’ll put it together and clean things up.”
“Another day. For today and tomorrow, I’m keeping you in bed,” Donald stated. “Maybe even Sunday, too.”
Taking one of Donald’s hands, Tim asked hesitantly, “Donald, what did I do? You still look very upset by something and I can only assume it happened while I had amnesia.”
Donald let out a short, explosive sigh and then answered, “You didn’t know me, Timmy. There wasn’t a shred of love looking back at me from you and it scared the hell out of me. You’re all I’ve got. If you don’t love me…”
Tim immediately pulled him in close and held him tight. Kissing the side of his throat, Tim promised, “I will always love you, Donald. Always. If, God forbid, anything like that ever happens again, you just need to stick around and make sure I remember how very much I love you.”
Donald cleared his throat and held him just as tight until someone coughed discretely. He pulled back and Tim saw the nurse, Jamie, standing in the door.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she apologized.
Donald waved her closer. “No, it’s fine.”
Jamie smiled cheerfully and said, “At least it’s time to go home. I’m going to change your bandages, Mr. Callahan, and then you’re off. Mr. Strachey, it’s probably going to be a while if you want to go grab a coffee?”
Holding up the clipboard, Donald agreed, “Sounds like a plan. I’ll get all this filled out, too, so we can just skedaddle out when you guys are done in here.”
Tim nodded in approval. “Very efficient. Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”
Donald finally laughed, blue eyes sparkling, and wagged a finger at him. “Funny. Very funny. I’ll be back in twenty. Is that long enough?”
“Oh plenty,” Jamie confirmed.
Donald kissed him again briefly and whistled on his way out.
Tim watched as Jamie turned off the monitors, relieved that things were finally going to plan again. He would be home in an hour and then safely curled up in bed with Donald shortly thereafter.
“You know, Mr. Foster, you were very difficult to find.”
Surprised, Tim looked over at Jamie and found her staring at him with what could only be described as hatred. Fear slithered through his belly and he cautiously said, “I’m Tim Callahan, remember?”
Her thin smile had nothing of warmth or humor in it as she countered, “So you might believe, but you’re actually Cade Foster and you murdered millions of my people.”
Tim’s eyes went wide as he realized she was completely crazy. He reached for the call button, but she was faster, unbelievably so, grabbing his hand and squeezing in a painfully tight grip. When he opened his mouth to shout for help, her other hand covered it, effectively silencing him.
“I was going to bring you back to the others now that I’d found you,” she continued, “but I think I want to kill you myself. I’ve spent years hunting you down, Foster, would have devoted my life to it. But here you are, just dropping into my lap like a gift from your Heaven.”
Tim struggled to get free, thrashing around on the bed, but somehow, even though she was smaller than he, she easily held him down. And then her hand shifted to cover both his mouth and his nose, blocking his air supply completely. His lungs immediately protested and he fought harder, but she was immovable. He pushed and shoved at her with his free hand and then punched when that didn’t work, but it didn’t move her in the slightest.
Panic flowed through him as darkness stole his vision, but Tim’s only true thoughts were of Donald. He knew the other man would blame himself for this; knew that Donald would be swallowed by guilt. Weakness took control of his body, lethargy replacing the will to fight. As his body stopped moving and a veil covered his eyes, Tim prayed that Donald would be all right, prayed that he knew how very much he was loved.