Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Why does no one know I'm missing?

The shower was hot, the water heavy against his back, and Adam stood for the longest time under the flow, lost in thought. He had to be careful not to get his face wet, both because the nurse told him so and because even the softest of touches hurt like a motherfucker.

Anger warred with frustration. This Ethan guy, this cop, knew who Adam was, had known him as a child. So why couldn't seeing Ethan make Adam recall the past?

Does no one, in whatever life I had for the last twelve years, even care?

He didn't have a headache, and there wasn't any pain yet today; that only started when he attempted to find a memory among the fog in his head.

He could have thumbed into the contacts on Ethan's phone — he could have opened up Angry Birds and played. He knew those things. He recognized the cellphone as an iPhone, knew who the president was, and even felt a weakness for bacon, which made him smile.

But the rest…

His name, his very identity. Gone.

Gay. I'm gay. That's all I know. Unless the smack on the head made me look at men and women in a different way from before?

Like Ethan in there. He didn't remember Ethan but, objectively, the tall, brown-haired man with gray eyes dressed in a rumpled suit was a confident, strong-looking man, one Adam liked to look at.

Fucked. Completely fucked.

He had to trust that Ethan would get him wherever he needed to be. To a place that wasn't the hospital or a prison.

Shit. Why would I think of prison? What if I'm a criminal? What if I've murdered someone? What if I'm someone people hate?

Guilt and grief pushed up from inside him. He slid down the tiled wall to sit under the water, tilting his head so he could breathe.

"Who am I?" he asked the empty bathroom.

For the longest time he sat there, until something inside him—some determination that he must hold in his heart—gave him the strength to stand and squeeze shampoo into his hand, and forced him to wash his hair and clean his skin.

Until, with a towel wrapped around his waist, he stepped outside the room. The steam following him as he walked straight into a fight.

Well, a heated debate, at least. Ethan was standing, his stance implacable, his arms crossed over his chest.

The argument didn't stop when Adam stepped into the room.

"And I'm taking him home," Ethan said. Apparently this conversation covered Ethan wanting to go.

"He doesn't even know his home." The second man, Adam didn't recognize. Some official-looking guy with an angry expression.

"He is under my care," Ethan snapped.

"The hospital will not be held accountable for anything that happens should he leave."

Ah, so that was what it was about: administrative accountability. Adam wanted to leave, and he wanted to be with Ethan, he didn't know why, but it felt right. Ethan felt right. In his need to make sure Ethan didn't rethink his plans, Adam stepped closer to him until he was right at Ethan's shoulder. "I'm going with Ethan," he said. "I'll sign any waivers to absolve the hospital of responsibility."

"The issue isn't signing anything. It's whether you're mentally capable of signing what we need you to."

"You're saying I'm mentally incapacitated?" Adam began patiently.

"Possibly." The administrator looked triumphant for a second, then frowned. "No one can tell in cases like this."

"Then I'll sign a form to say it was my choice to leave despite hospital assurances that I'm incapacitated."

"Sir, you have to understand. This is a difficult ethical position for us to be in."

"I'm arresting him," Ethan snapped, "and I need to take him to Missoula for questioning."

"Arresting him for what?" the administrator asked, startled.

"Anything. And I'll sign the relevant forms. But we are leaving—" Ethan checked his watch. "—in exactly thirty minutes."

The administrator blustered for a bit and then left, slamming the door behind him. Very professional.

"Only one problem," Adam said.

Ethan turned to face him, right up in his space as Adam had parked himself so close. "What?"

Adam indicated the towel. "They cut me out of my clothes. I'll be leaving in a towel or a hospital gown."

Ethan blinked. Adam could imagine the thought processes going on inside his head.

"So you leave in a gown and we'll stop at the first place that sells clothes."

Something passed between them. Ethan half smiled and Adam felt lighter. He sat down on the bed, energy leaving him slowly — pain taking its place. "I'll need meds, and I don't have coverage for medical expenses, or I don't know if I do…."

"I have it covered, you have money, and I can get whatever else we need from my savings. You can pay me back."

"I have money? And wait, are you sure?"

"We'll sort it out when we get home," Ethan said.

His tone allowed for no argument, and all Adam really wanted to do was to get outside, where maybe he could connect with a memory.

They stopped at an outlet store on the way to the airport. Ethan bought soft sweatpants and a T-shirt, along with underwear and fleece socks.

"Is that all right to start with?" Ethan asked.

Adam nodded. He'd taken painkillers before leaving the hospital but, after just ten minutes in the car, he was starting to ache. His chest and muscles hurt, and he would have happily worn the gown forever if it meant he didn't have to move at all.

They'd pulled up a long distance from the store. No one was parked around them, but Adam was sure security cameras would pick up his naked ass if he wasn't careful.

"You want some help?" Ethan didn't wait for an answer.

As Ethan helped him, Adam willed away an insistent pressure to blurt out "I'm gay." It seemed vital he said this to Ethan, but he couldn't figure out why. Was it because he didn't want the guy to feel uncomfortable as he got up-close and intimate with Adam's junk as he helped him dress, or was it something deeper?

Was he trying to convince himself? Was he gay at all?

"I got you some sneakers in different sizes, three pairs. Want to try some?"

They'd gotten Adam out of the hospital in a gown, a blanket and no shoes. The idea of something on his feet was one that made him happy. Having shoes meant it would be easy to run if he needed to.

"Adam? Are you okay? You'll need to lift your leg. Adam?"

Adam snapped back to Ethan's voice. He had completely frozen at that single thought.

Run?

Why would I want to run?

"Adam?" Ethan repeated patiently.

Not for the first time, Adam focused in on the compassion in Ethan's eyes. "Sorry," he apologized.

Between them, they found out Adam was a size twelve and that the other shoes wouldn't fit. Ethan slung them into the rear of the car with a muttered comment that he wasn't worried about taking them back. Adam didn't argue with him. Instead, he attempted to settle into a halfway-comfortable position as they arrived at the car rental return at O'Hare. Despite Ethan being a cop, without Adam having valid ID, there was little chance of getting him onto a flight, so they decided to re-rent the car and drive to Montana.

They'd kept the same car, as evidenced by the sneakers still on the backseat. The rental firm evidently didn't have time to clean it.

They left the city and took I-90 Northwest.

"Thank you, I know this is a long way."

Ethan looked at him briefly. "Road trip," he said and offered a smile.

Ethan didn't seem fazed at all that they were driving over a thousand miles to a place Adam had once called home.

The meds kicked in strongly as they reached the city limits, where Chicago turned into a long, endless road. Adam closed his eyes.

"Are you still hungry?" Ethan asked. "Do you need to eat for the medication?"

"'M tired," Adam slurred, even though he was hungry. He hoped the queasiness was just car related and not because the eggs hadn't been enough to line his stomach.

And, as sleep claimed him, he realized he didn't have any choice about keeping his eyes open. His mind was broken into a million splinters, and he was exhausted.

When he opened his eyes again, he had about thirty seconds' to warn Ethan to stop the car, before kneeling on the side of the road and dry-heaving the sickness inside him.

"I should have stopped for some decent food," Ethan apologized. He held out a cracker. "Picked this up when I stopped for gas."

Adam didn't recall Ethan stopping for gas, but he took the cracker and bit into the salty dryness. The sickness subsided as fresh April air with a hint of icy wind filled his lungs, and he took in everything around him. The road still looked endless, the landscape no different from what had been there when they left the city.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"We made it to Wisconsin, about ten minutes from Janesville. You want to stop there for today?"

"Don't you want to push on?"

Ethan crouched down next to him and placed a hand on his arm. "No. So we can either stop in Janesville or another hour or so from there."

"I can manage another hour. Can you help me up? Sorry to be so…" He didn't finish the sentence. What was he going to say? So pathetic? So ill? So dependent? He wasn't the type of man to rely on other people.

Somehow, bone-deep, he knew that to be so.

Ethan held out a hand and took Adam's weight as he stumbled to stand, wincing as every single muscle pulled and ached and twisted in pain.

"We're stopping at Janesville," Ethan announced when they were back in the car.

Adam opened his mouth to say he was okay, but he wasn't. He was tired and miserable, and he hurt. Stoic heroism be damned, he would do whatever Ethan thought best.

"Thank you," he said.

They exited the I-90 at the sign for a Holiday Inn, and parked up as close to the entrance as Ethan could get.

"You want your own room?" Ethan asked, and waited for Adam to reply.

Evidently, it was going to be Adam's choice, and he considered a comfortable bed, his own shower, no nurses checking in on him every five minutes…

Then he considered what it meant be on his own, and something told him he needed Ethan. "No, we can share. Cheaper that way," he added in qualification.

If Ethan could see through that, he didn't say. He opened the door to go check in.

A sudden thought had Adam wanting to add one more thing. "You should know I think I'm gay. That is, I know I'm gay. If that means you'd rather not share…"

Ethan stopped, one foot out of the car. Very deliberately he sat back around, and with one hand, he cradled Adam's face. "Finally he tells me without blushing," he murmured. "And, Adam, for what it's worth, I know."

"You know."

"Yep, back in a minute."

Then, before Adam could process what Ethan had said, he left.

Finally he tells me? He knew?

What did that mean?