Wandering, I am lost...
Disclaimer: Stargate, Buffy, Angel and CSI-NY do not belong to me.
Set post Buffy/Angel and post season 1 of CSI NY and during season 7 of SG-1. Does not reference any particular episode of either Stargate or CSI NY -- at least not so far.
Warning: This is just an idea... I don't know when I will write any more... I will
finish it eventually, but probably not right away.
Note: This story hasn't been betaed... if you find any mistakes I apologize and please let me know.
She was wandering down the road, drifting along and feeling uneasy and disoriented. People were giving her funny looks, but this didn’t surprise her. She felt confused and every muscle hurt. Finally, she came to a bus shed. There were people sitting there, so she too sat.
A man standing at the bus stop moved to catch her as she fell forward moments after sitting.
“Are you alright miss?” he asked.
“I... do... not... know,” she said, slumping against him. He heard her mutter, “Everything hurts.”
Then everything went black.
The next thing she remembered was looking up at bright fluorescent lights, and smelling the smells of… hospital. She began to pull at the various lines and leads attached to her body, and the monitors went crazy.
“No! Miss, don’t disconnect those. You need them. Please wait. Let me get the doctor,” said a young man she had never seen before as he rushed into the room, looking alarmed.
At that moment, the curtain moved aside, revealing the man from the bus stop.
“You’re finally awake! Good. What are you doing? Please don’t do that!”
“I’m getting out of here. I don’t like hospitals.”
“Yes. They couldn’t figure out how you were able to get that far. You looked as if you’d been beaten within an inch of your life.”
“Well, I feel fine!”
“Come on girl, that doesn’t make a lick of sense,” said the nurse, who was trying to reattach everything she had succeeded in detaching. Fortunately, she hadn’t ripped the needle out of her arm.
“I’m fine. Thank you for bringing me here. But now I need to go.”
“I think they want to talk to you. They don’t have your name or anything.”
“That’s too bad!” she said, frowning.
“You’re just going to leave?” he said, surprised.
“No, you don’t get it… I don’t know my name.”
“You have amnesia?”
“Amnesia? I guess… the last thing I remember is sitting down… in a bus stop?”
“That was more than six hours ago.”
“That’s a long time. I was unconscious that long?”
“According to the doctors.”
“Who are you? Are we friends?”
“I brought you in,” he said.
“But we’re not friends?”
“No, we’re not friends. My name is Daniel.”
“Hi Daniel. Thanks for bringing me in… I think I’m fine now…”
“You were unconscious for six hours. You’re not fine!”
“Listen to him, Miss…?” when she didn’t supply a name, the physician continued. “You showed signs of a very severe beating. The police want to take a report.”
“Police? I can’t tell them anything. I don’t know anything.”
“You don’t remember what happened?”
“She doesn’t remember who she is,” said Daniel. “And I don’t think she’s lying.”
“And you’re some kind of profiler?”
“I’m a… I’m an Air Force consultant,” he said.
“I see,” said the doctor. “And of course you’re not going to tell me anything else?”
“I’m afraid not,” he grinned at the doctor.
She rolled he eyes, but she was smiling.
“You’re military?” said the young woman. “I don’t think I like the military either.”
“I’m not military, Miss. I’m actually an archeologist. I just work for the Air Force.”
“You’re an archeologist?” the doctor had been leaving the room, but she turned around on hearing this. “What do you know about telling when people are lying? I thought you were some kind of spy or something.
“You’d be surprised,” was all he said before turning his attention back to the woman sitting on the bed.
“Can you help me? Daniel?” she said. “I seem to have misplaced my clothes.”
“Oh,” Daniel said. That explained why she hadn’t left yet. Under the blankets, all she wore was a hospital gown, open at the back. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The police arrived. One was female, tall and, Daniel thought, quite beautiful. Her face was framed by dark, curly hair. The other was a male, a bit more typical looking cop. They seemed unsuspicious of the young woman, and mostly interested in finding out if she had been the victim of some kind of crime.
“I’m Detective Stella Bonasera. This is Dr. Sheldon Hawkes, he’s a medical doctor. We wanted to talk to you about your injuries,” she said.
“I don’t… remember,” the young woman said.
“Can you tell us your name? The hospital didn’t give us much information, except to tell us that they were surprised you were still alive.”
“I don’t remember,” said the young woman.
Suddenly the mood of the room shifted. Detective Bonasera looked suspicious. Dr Hawkes looked like Sam did when she discovered some new mystery.
“You don’t remember?” asked Dr Hawkes, sounding almost eager.
“That’s what I was just trying to tell them!” she gestured at Daniel and the doctor.
“Are you sure you don’t remember?” asked Detective Bonasera gently.
Daniel tensed. He could tell she was becoming suspicious.
“She isn’t lying. I’m not the police, and she told me the same thing,” he told the detective.
“And who are you?”
“I found her,” he said. “I’m Dr Daniel Jackson.”
“The hospital said she came in here almost seven hours ago,” said Sheldon. “If you don’t know her, why are you still here?”
“I… I don’t know… she was alone. She was hurt. I don’t have anything pressing… I figured I’d stay until they found her family…” Daniel shrugged.
“But now she doesn’t know who she is…” said Sheldon. “How much longer are you going to wait?”
“I really hadn’t thought about it, detective,” he said honestly.
“I see. And it’s doctor
, not detective - not yet anyway,” said Sheldon. Behind Dr. Hawkes, Detective Bonasera studied him.
Daniel was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. What was he getting himself into? This was what Jack kept telling him. His soft heart always got him into trouble.
“So miss… what is your name? You came in here covered in bruises, with broken ribs and you’re protecting whoever it is almost killed you? You do know we can’t help you if you keep protecting them?”
“I’m not protecting anybody!” the young woman yelled. “I. Have. No. Fucking. Idea. Who. I. Am. Now will someone please get me some clothes, because I am leaving this place.” She had finally pulled the needle out of her arm, and she got out of bed.
“You’re not going anywhere,” said the detective, standing in front of the partially dressed woman.
“Am I under arrest?” asked the woman, looking defiantly up at the detective.
She had both fists planted on her hips and stood, both feet apart, looking furious and combative. She was also swaying slightly. Daniel reached out and steadied her.
“No, you’re not under arrest. Just don’t leave town. We’re processing your clothes. Oh, by the way… if you don’t know who you are, how are we going to know where can we find you?”
“I don’t know,” the young woman was now sitting on the edge of the hospital cot, gripping the mattress tightly. She looked suddenly forlorn. “I don’t know where I’m going.”
“Maybe you should
stay here…” Daniel said, suddenly worried. “Maybe you have a head injury.”
“We have already done head CT’s,” the doctor said, looking through her chart. “From what radiology says, there aren’t any new injuries… just evidence of a rather bad skull fracture… Apparently, it looked more than a year old. Just like all the rest of her fractures. I can’t remember seeing that many fractures on anyone still alive. Just the skull fracture alone should have killed her.”
“Fractures?” said Dr Hawkes. “Plural?”
“That’s partly why we called you. At first, we thought it was just a mugging, but when they took X rays, there was evidence of dozens, maybe as many as a hundred previous fractures of different ages. This woman has been tortured,” the doctor told the police.
“They told us it was possible domestic abuse,” said Bonasera.
“Yeah, that’s because of this,” the doctor handed him a partly burned ID card, in a plastic bag. Only three things were visible on the card, a part of a picture – evidently the young woman, what looked like a partial first name and a part of an insignia of some sort. It looked military, but neither Bonasera nor Hawkes recognized it.
“We think someone burned her… maybe some time in the past. We didn’t find any fresh burns, but her clothes were burned too… Except the coat… It looked relatively new.”
“We’ll process it all… Maybe it will tell us something,” Bonasera said.
“Can I please go? I hate it here,” said the young woman. “Apparently, there’s nothing they can do for me here anyway. I really don’t like hospitals.”
“So you do remember something?” said Bonasera.
“Remember something? asked the young woman.
“You said, ‘I don’t like hospitals’. You didn’t just say, ‘I don’t like it here.’ Apparently, you’ve been in the hospital before.
“Maybe. I don’t remember. I just know I really don’t like being here.”
“Where are you going to go?” asked Dr Hawkes.
“I don’t know. I just have to get out of here. Maybe there’s a shelter or something. I’d rather sleep on a park bench than be in here,” the young woman said, sounding just a little agitated.
“You’ve done that before?” asked Bonasera.
“Are you deaf? I don’t remember. What is her problem?” she asked Hawkes.
Hawkes laughed. “I think she’s trying to help you remember who you are.
“Well tell her to stop, it’s annoying. I don’t like it here. I’m leaving. If you won’t get me my clothes, I’m leaving in this.”
Daniel put his hand on her arm. “Wait.”
She looked up at him. “What?”
“You can stay with me,” he said. “She can stay with me. I have a suite at the Morgan Hotel. Here’s my military ID. I’ll be responsible for her until I leave the City. You’ve got one week to figure out who she is. In the mean time, she can stay with me.”
“Why would you do this for a stranger?” asked Bonasera, surprised and suspicious. “If you take advantage of her we will arrest you, you know? I hope that’s not what you’re planning.”
“Do I look like a predator to you?” asked Daniel.
“You’d be surprised,” said Bonasera. “I still don’t get why you’re doing this.”
Daniel shrugged. “When I was lost and I didn’t know who I was, people took me in and took care of me.”
“You had memory loss?”
“Yes, about a year ago. I was… injured on a dig… I was in… a very remote location, and the tribes people there found me, nursed me back to health, and gave me a place in their tribe until… the people I worked for found me,” said Daniel, editing carefully as he spoke.
“How do we know you’re telling the truth?”
“Call my boss,” he said, handing Bonasera a card with the general’s phone number on it.
“What does the Air Force need an archeologist for?” Bonasera asked.
Daniel just looked at her.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“Lovely. And you want me to trust you.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t answer to you. If you’ve got a problem with that, I suggest you discuss that with my boss too,” he put his hands in his pockets, and waited while Bonasera made the phone call.
The call to the mountain apparently had satisfied Bonasera. When she returned, she was carrying a camera.
“I want to take a few pictures of you before you go.”
“It might help us find out who you are. Maybe someone’s filed a missing person’s report.”
Stella took several pictures as well as fingerprints. “We’ll let you know what we find.”