Title: Who Are You?

Author: Uris

Series: The Sentinel

Pairing: Jim/ Blair

Rating: NC 17

Beta: Sheila, ShayAlyce

Archive: Yes

Warning: Jim's amnesia is caused by a real medical condition. My Grandfather suffered amnesia when he had a stroke.

Summary/challenge: Amnesia challenge

Part of the Cliché Fuh-Q-Fest at http://www.kardasi.com/Cliched/index.htm I did both Jim and Blair for the Sentinel amnesia challenge. This was written first.

Feedback address uris@fateordestiny.com



Who Are You?
By Uris

"Who are you?" Jim shouted over the roar in his head. He would have pulled his gun on the longhaired man in the green pullover shirt if he didn't need to keep his hands on his head from his ears to his temples to keep his head from exploding from a monster migraine. "And get out of my house."

"I live here," the young man said in a calm too rational voice.

Jim lived in his loft with his wife, Carolyn, or did until she walked out last night. The pain was so great that Jim couldn't think or see straight. He must have hung one over last night. "Chief, I'm not in the habit of letting neo-hippie punks bunk in my loft." The pain in his head was getting to the point where putting a bullet through his head to stop the pain seemed almost reasonable. Where was the extra-strength Tylenol when he needed it? The bathroom downstairs seemed miles away at this moment.

Since the migraine was causing spots to appear in front of his eyes, Jim felt for his gun. It was on the dresser. Noticing his right hand shook a bit, he held the gun in both hands. "I'm going downstairs." Pointing his gun at the punk kid, Jim noticed the young man had no underwear on, just an ugly green shirt. No one robs a house with a naked behind. All the same, Jim wasn't taking any chances. "I suggest you do the same."

"Jim, put down the gun and I'll prove to you that I live here."

Jim continued to point the gun at the half-naked young man. "Downstairs, then we'll talk."

The young man ran downstairs and fetched the water and Tylenol with a proficiency that said he knew where things were kept. Jim sat on the sofa with the afghan covering it. Carolyn thought the afghan was tacky. Jim needed to get this young man out of his house because Carolyn could be home any minute. Jim needed to patch things up with his wife, which usually meant saying sorry a lot. He'd rather say, "I'm sorry" than listen to the Plummer family gossip.

The young man said calmly, "Take your Tylenol and we'll talk. That was some sensory spike."

Jim took the white pills, then washed them down with the water. His hands were shaking a bit, which was odd. Jim usually had rock steady hands and a hawk eye aim. At least the pain in his head was subsiding. Maybe he did have some kind of sensory spike, like the young man claimed; more likely, it was a run-of-the-mill hangover. "I must have downed some heavy booze last night. I don't remember you and my ears are still ringing."

"Jim, I know you're angry about the dissertation, but you don't have to fake amnesia."

"Who's faking?" Jim, suddenly, realized he was naked. He must have fallen asleep drunk and naked after this young man drove him home and helped him undress. With the level of alcohol high enough to cause the massive hangover he was suffering, blackouts weren't uncommon.

"You and over-the-counter medicine don't always get along," said the young man. "Would it help if I massage your temples?"

"Sure. Could you get me some clothes? I'm sure you saw me naked and more last night. You have me at a disadvantage. You obviously know me and I don't even know your name."

The young man put out his hand. "Blair Sandburg."

"Just get me some clothes and pants for yourself." Jim didn't mind the view, but he couldn't have Carolyn walk in to find him naked and his guest half-clothed. He didn't know what he did wrong, but Carolyn was angry enough to pack her things and threaten never to return. He tried to be a good husband to her. She never even met him halfway. She insisted on separate bank accounts and keeping her last name. She never acted as if their marriage was something permanent. Jim supposed it was due to her sister Wendy's failed marriages, but Carolyn's behavior had set them up for failure. After the headache medicine did its job, he would call Carolyn to apologize. It might have been the Catholic in him, but he believed that marriage was forever.

If he got drunk enough to suffer the kind of hangover with shakes, blackouts, and a migraine-level headache, he wasn't up to sex last night. He probably didn't manage much more then wobbling then losing consciousness. Carolyn would only see a half-naked twenty-something man in their house.

While Jim massaged his own temples, Blair ran upstairs to get the clothes. The spots in front of Jim's eyes were gone. The traffic outside still made him flinch with every rumble and horn honk. The traffic seemed awfully loud for three stories up. Damned hangovers. Jim stood and saw French doors in the corner that Carolyn used for storage. He didn't recall putting up those doors and that wasn't something he would do while drunk. That was odd. It also appeared the furniture had been moved around, too. This wasn't an ordinary blackout.

Now wearing jeans under his green shirt, Blair handed Jim his clothes. The young man must be colorblind. Jim dressed in the black shirt, beige slacks and blue-green sweater. This wasn't the soap-opera type amnesia. He knew he was Jim Ellison who worked for Cascade PD, was married to Carolyn Plummer, and lived at 852 Prospect Street. All he couldn't remember was what he did last night, how the French doors got there, and who moved his stuff around.

Blair sat beside Jim on the sofa and started massaging Jim's temples. "Just relax. I'm sure everything will come back to you. We had a rough time of it last night -- our first big fight. I didn't realize our other fights were small until last night. The amnesia might be a coping mechanism. You've had amnesia before. You forgot about your time in Peru and parts of your childhood."

Jim thought a moment about Peru. He remembered Incacha, training the Chopec warriors to take over for his men, and some of the ladies that shared his hut, but huge parts of his time there were missing. He knew that he had gone through initiation rituals in Peru but didn't remember any of it. Jim's memory, like Sam's on Quantum Leap, was Swiss cheese. "When did I install the French doors?"

"This year," said Blair.

After sipping a little more water, Jim asked, "Honey, how long have you lived here?" The word honey was dipped in sarcasm.

"Three years?"

"I couldn't have forgotten three years of my life."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Carolyn was calling me distant and uncaring," said Jim. "She packed her bags to stay with her parents. I figured I went to a bar, tied one on, and you were kind enough to take me home."

Blair rested a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Man, I don't know how to break this to you, but you and Carolyn have been divorced for some time. Talking to Carolyn might help trigger your memory. Would you like me to call her?"

No matter how nice it would be to talk to someone he knew, Jim knew if he called her that he would beg her forgiveness. If Blair were telling the truth that they were divorced for three years, then begging on the phone would look desperate and foolish.

"Why upset her?" Jim went to the kitchen to start the pot of coffee. "What happened before I lost my memory?"

"We had a fight. You were upset that I talked to your ex-wife about intimacy." Blair started making the eggs and toast.

Jim got the plates from the cabinet. "What were you doing? Comparing notes?"

"I wasn't comparing notes. I just asking her about intimacy issues for my dissertation."

Jim got two forks from the drawer and set them on the table. When the toast popped up, he set two slices on each of the plates. He then took the butter dish from the refrigerator and put it on the table with a clean knife. He'd always thought helping with breakfast put Carolyn in a good mood; maybe, it didn't. She walked out on him and, according to Blair, she doesn't return.

"You apologized at work. We've made up."

Jim poured the coffee into two mugs and set those on the table. "I don't remember making up. Can we do it again?"

"We need to get your memory back."

Jim put an arm around Blair. "Breakfast can wait. Let's make up now." Jim kissed the back of Blair's neck and moved his hand down Blair's back. He didn't remember ever having sex with the college student, but it was time to start making new memories, ones with a sexy college student. "Doing normal activities is supposed to help."

Blair removed Jim's hands from his waist, plated the eggs and put them on the table beside the butter, forks and coffee. "Like eating breakfast."

"Honey, breakfast can wait." Jim kissed Blair's ear. The smell of freshly brewed coffee was strangely erotic.

Jim wrapped his arms around Blair and bent down slightly to kiss him. As Jim deepened the kiss, Blair's lips felt familiar like they had kissed hundreds of times before. "Hmm."

Blair looked up at Jim. "Did that help your memory?"

"I remember holding you many times before and eating breakfast with you before." Jim could remember an argument about Blair using all the hot water. Blair did live here. "I'm sure if I hold you some more, my memory will return."

"You had a very stressful night." Blair sat down to eat. "After we eat, you can hold me all you want. Captain Banks gave you the day off."

Jim sat down at the table across from Blair. "I don't remember what we fought about, but I'm sorry."

"You're starting to remember." Blair ate a helping of eggs.

"It's foggy, but there's enough coming back for me to know that you live here." Jim sipped his coffee then started to eat his breakfast, having a feeling of deja vu. He could tell Blair that he remembered that Blair took long showers and they fought because Blair used all the hot water and dirtied all the towels. All Jim wanted to hold onto from the memory was a wet Blair wrapped in a fluffy towel.

"What do you recall?" Blair asked before taking a bite of his dry toast.

Jim was going to use the butter. "Small things. I call you Chief." Jim buttered both slices of toast and returned the butter to the fridge. He hated nothing worse than rancid butter. "Would you like some orange juice?"

"Love some."

Jim returned with the half empty carton of juice and two glasses. After filling the glasses, he returned the nearly empty carton to the refrigerator. "You're so beautiful. I feel so lucky that you have been living with me for the past three years. I love you."

"Jim, please." Blair continued eating his eggs.

"Honey, whatever we fought about isn't important." Jim ate some of his eggs and a bite of his toast. "Carolyn left me because I never told her how I felt."

"You show me that you love me all the time," said Blair.

Jim drank his juice. "You're the most important person in the world to me. I can feel that."

"Don't get all mushy on me."

"Honey, I love you. That won't change." Jim finished his eggs and put his and Blair's dishes in the sink. "I want to remember more about you. You know so much about me and all I know is that having my arms around you feels right."

Blair drank the rest of his coffee. "You had a pretty bad time of it. You were shaking so bad that I'm worried about brain damage."

"Do I have seizures?" Jim hated having to ask someone else about his medical history.

"No, but you fainted and got migraines around Lila. A photo of her knife gave you a migraine. This might be similar."

"I can't go to work, not remembering the last three years."

"Four," said Blair. "Carolyn walked out on you four years ago."

"Four years? How did an old man like me get a college kid in my bed?"

"You aren't old."

"Compared to you, I am." Jim washed the dishes then joined Blair on the couch. "If we share a house, where are your things?"

"In my office. You're fussy about where I put my stuff. You have all these house rules."

Jim snuggled against Blair. "Being with you feels right."

"Maybe, we should see a doctor."

"What's a doctor going to say? Either my memory will return or it won't. I woke up this morning with a twenty-something kid in my bed. I plan to enjoy it."

"Is that all you think about?"

"You tell me. You and Carolyn compared notes."

"You don't have amnesia. You're trying to emotionally blackmail me."

Jim kissed Blair. "Sugar, let's go upstairs."

Blair returned the kiss. "You win." After following Jim up the stairs, Blair removed his clothes, stripping down to his briefs.

"They come off, too."

"Sex won't cure you."

"What were we doing before I lost my memory?" Jim asked as he peeled off his clothes.

"Having sex."

"I want to kiss, lick and touch every part of your body." Jim lay on the large bed. "Join me. Honey, I want to make you feel loved." Jim raised his head to look at Blair standing there in his briefs. "You have no idea how breathtaking you are."

Blair sat on the side of the bed. "If the last thing you remember is Carolyn packing, then it's too soon for us to have sex. Rebound sex hurts everyone."

"It was over four years ago even if it seems like yesterday to me. You've been living with me since my divorce."

"You were divorced when we met," Blair corrected. "Carolyn was still the head of forensics. She used to get jealous when she saw us whispering in the hallway."

"It's the last thing I remember clearly. It isn't the last thing I remember. Get over here." Jim wanted to enjoy Blair, not argue. What was this kid? A psychology major? "Fucking you is good for my emotional health."

The briefs came off. Blair moved his hand over Jim's chest.

Jim pulled Blair into his arms. He moved a hand over Blair's back. "You feel so good."

"Are you remembering anything?"

"The only things I want to hear from you are sighs of pleasure." Jim kissed Blair hard and put one of his hands on Blair's bottom.

"You could have had a stroke," Blair interrupted.

"More than an hour has passed. A few more minutes won't matter." Jim pulled Blair's head down.

"Aggressive." Blair put his hand on Jim's erection. He fondled his lover's balls. Blair placed his lips around Jim's shaft.

"Yes," Jim moaned. That young man could suck. Now, if Jim could teach Carolyn to do that, he wouldn't have to go out for sex. Then he remembered he divorced Carolyn four years ago. He lived with the young man with the long hair and a great tongue. Jim felt as if the pleasure would make every cell in his body explode, starting with his dick, but what a way to die. "Ah-ah-ah," Jim grunted. "Oh my God, oh my God." Jim fired in Blair's mouth.

Jim kissed Blair, tasting his own cum, placing his arm around him and closed his eyes. Shaking during recovery, Jim felt a bit guilty for cheating on Carolyn. Then again, she ran out on him.

Jim returned the favor, enjoying the salty taste of Blair's pre-cum as he licked the tip. He moved his tongue over the shaft until Blair was moaning loudly. Jim inhaled Blair's strong, musky scent. Jim covered Blair's member with his mouth, steadying himself by putting his right hand on Blair's thigh. Blair put his hand on the back of Jim's head, pulling him in. Blair thrusted several times before firing and screaming epithets.

Jim put some lube on his fingers to open Blair's anus. Blair relaxed and moaned softly at the touch. It was obvious this wasn't virgin territory as Jim lubricated himself. Jim pushed in fairly easily. As he thrusted in the tight slick passage, Blair squirmed in pleasure.

"Faster, Jim." Blair pushed back with nearly every thrust. Blair took Jim's hand and placed it on his erection. "Man, that feels good."

"Oh yes. Oh yes," Jim screamed. "Yes. Oh shit." Jim softened inside Blair and kissed his back. "I love you."

Blair kissed Jim's ear. "Felt familiar."

"Yes and no." Jim explained, "The memories are lurking under the surface. I know that we're together."

"Hypnosis?" Blair hugged Jim and patted his back. "You go under easily."

"What if it was a stroke?" Jim asked.

"We can have you checked at the hospital and then we can use hypnosis. If necessary, we'll do it in your hospital room." Blair got out of bed. "I need to shower. Take one with me to save time."

"If I take one with you, we'll never get out of here. I'll use a washcloth. You enjoy the shower." Jim hated seeing doctors. He wanted to stay in bed with the gorgeous young man, but Blair was right; it could be a stroke.

After they cleaned up and dressed, Blair drove Jim to the hospital. Jim checked into ER and Blair helped with the admission questions since Jim suffered memory loss.

"Who are you?" the admitting nurse asked.

"His S.O. I have his medical power of attorney," explained Blair.

"How long have you known the patient?" she asked.

"Three years," Blair stated. "Can we get him checked in? He may have had a stroke."

The nurse gave Jim and Blair a dirty look when they reported that the incident took place over two hours previously. Another staff member led Jim to the examining room. She took his vitals as Blair watched from the hallway. The doctor arrived as Jim was asked by an orderly to lie on a gurney. After a brief exam, Jim was told to go to the lab to have blood drawn.

"Honey, they haven't admitted me yet." Jim said.

"The doctor didn't ask why it took us so long to decide to come to the hospital."

"When he does, I'll just tell him that we didn't think it was serious. I thought it was a hangover and you thought it was a panic attack. I'm going to need a CAT scan or an MRI to check for brain damage. You should call Captain Banks."

The doctor lectured Jim about not coming to the hospital sooner when Jim returned to the ER after having his blood drawn.

"Can I wait with Jim?" Blair asked.

"As long as you stay out of the way of the staff," said the doctor. "I'll be back as soon as possible with your test results."

"Thank you," said Jim.

"Try to rest," the doctor said before leaving.

Blair said, "you miss Carolyn."

Jim was starting to remember that he had been living with Blair the last three years. He didn't want to talk about Carolyn. "Blair, you're so hot. Did I tell you I have a thing for short hyperactive men," Jim teased.

"Really?" Blair smiled.

"You're all I want." Jim squeezed Blair's hand. "I want your face to be the last one I see before I go to sleep at night and the first one that I see when I wake." Jim knew that Blair didn't believe him, but he felt it down to his bones that they belonged together. He felt something with Blair that he never felt with Carolyn. There was this awesome chemistry.

"Jim, I like the sentiment, but you're either projecting your feelings for Carolyn onto me or you're feeling lust." Blair moved the chair closer. "You were holding a gun on me this morning. I know you want to remember, but you can't force these things."

"I feel like you and I belong together. I can't explain it." Jim recalled more images, including someone in an animal control jumpsuit having Blair in a stranglehold. Did that happen last night or was that another time? "I dropped my gun for you. I chased after a man in an animal control jumpsuit, Smallwood. Why was animal control on the seventh floor of the police station?"

"It's a long story," said Blair.

"I want to be the reason that you're eager to wake every morning. I want you to want me just as much when I'm a hundred."

"I will."

"I remember enough to know we have been together three years." Jim kissed Blair's hand. "Get yourself some coffee and call the captain."

A couple hours later, the doctor returned and told Jim that he'd had a minor stroke and they would be admitting him overnight for further tests. Blair joined him in his semi-private room. Jim would have a CAT scan later that day. The doctors took memory loss seriously. Jim didn't want Blair knowing how scared he was.

"I have to see a doctor about reducing stress in my life and a nutritionist about a low-fat diet."

"The American Heart Association diet doesn't prevent heart attacks or heal arteriosclerosis. It causes the disease to progress. You need to eat a low-fat vegetarian diet with less than 10% of the calories from fat or you'll have another stroke," explained Blair.

"And doctors don't tell you this!"

"They make their money prescribing drugs and surgery. Diet and mediation don't make them money. I can show you the research on the Internet and in the library. I can buy you a couple books while you're talking to Simon."

"Right now, I would like you to guide me into using self-hypnosis to regain my memory."

"Jim, hypnosis might help, but your memory loss is a symptom of brain damage. The brain has amazing recovery ability and that you're willing to try is a good sign. Just don't expect it to all come back." Blair let go of Jim's hand. "Listen to my voice. Focus on the sound of your breath. You're on a quiet beach and all you can hear are ocean waves." Blair took out a cassette player from his backpack and played his 'Songs of the Humpback Whale' tape. "Focus on your breathing. Jim, what were we doing this morning?"

"We were still at the police station. The homeless were in the hallways. Gabe took a bullet meant for Johnny Macado and was taken to the hospital. You called him an angel."

"After that?" Blair asked in a soft voice.

Jim took a few deep breaths. Everything had been so peaceful: Blair's voice, ocean waves, whale calls, the hum of the florescent lights. He didn't want to remember pain. Terrible pain. "The mother of all headaches." Jim took a deep breath from his chest. Good thoughts. Blair and the doctors would keep the pain from coming back. Squeezing his eyes closed tighter, Jim knew he was wincing.

"You can open your eyes." Blair took Jim's hand. "You're in the hospital. You're safe."

"Why did you think my stroke was a sensory spike?"

"You've had sensory spikes before. Sex can be overwhelming to someone without your senses."

"What's wrong with my senses? Something happened to my senses during the past four years." After his headache died down, noises did seem louder and colors brighter, but that was residual from the stroke, a type of aura.

"No, something happened to your senses in Peru," Blair explained. "You became aware of it during the Switchman case. Veronica Sarris's father died in Peru and she held you responsible."

"Andrew Sarris," said Jim.

Captain Banks and a tall woman came into the room. Banks walked over to the bed. "You must be better. Talking about old cases."

"Jim is getting some of his memories back," Blair said. "Can we talk in the hall a bit?"

"Conner, visit with him," said Banks. Blair escorted Simon to the hallway.

"Conner," said Jim, looking at the tall, leggy brunette. "Cascade's answer to Crocodile Dundee. Or is that Alligator Dundee?"

"Sandy said you lost your memory. Your memory seems fine. Now, if someone could fix your sense of humor," said Conner.

"I remember last night pretty well. The stuff before that is foggy," said Jim. "The doctor says I have a bit of weakness on my right side. That's why I was shaking earlier. Nothing a bit of weight training won't cure."

"A stroke at your age?" asked Conner.

"Sandburg is putting me on a low-fat vegetarian diet. No more Mr. Tube Steak," said Jim. "I promised Blair I'd reach a hundred."

Simon Banks came back in. "Are you two behaving yourselves?"

"You visit," said Conner. "I'll get some coffee."

Jim gestured stop. "The doctor says no caffeine."

"I'll get some coffee for me, mate. Captain Banks?"

Simon said, "I'm fine."

Conner left.

"How you handling things?" said Simon.

"I didn't think I'd have a stroke at my age. My memory is so messed up I didn't know what my age was. I told the admitting nurse my birthday and she told me my age. I'm too young to be senile. My mind is what makes me a good detective." Jim looked at his friend and boss, Simon Banks. Jim needed to look strong and brave. He couldn't cry. He told someone he couldn't remember who (not surprising at the moment) that he brought brains to the operation.

"The doctor said it was a minor cerebral accident."

Jim glared at Simon. "No stroke is minor. All that means is I can still talk and I suffered no paralysis."

"Do you think you can return to work?"

"The doctor says tomorrow. I leap onto moving trains, dodge bullets and a little blood clot won't keep me down. Captain, you know me."

"Good to hear it." The conversation got a bit lighter. They were watching the game when Conner returned for her coffee. Conner and Banks left when Jim was wheeled off for more tests.

A couple hours later, Blair returned with a pile of books. He opened a book called of all things, "Dr. Dean Orish's Program for Reversing Heart Disease." Blair explained, "Dr. Orish's program includes exercise, diet and stress reduction. How do you feel about long walks? They would help
with the exercise part and are a great way to relax."

"Long walks?" Jim was skeptical.

"Healthy cooking, long walks and calm thoughts. You'll live to be a hundred."

"But will I want to?"

"You loved your wok before we met. You could use more aerobic exercise in your life. One walk in the evening; piece of cake. You were having a pretty stressful night. We had a fight. An alligator was in the air ducts and homeless people were in the hallways."

"You talking about reducing stress is giving me stress."

Blair handed him the book then kissed his cheek. "Read the book. I'm going to clean out the kitchen and give the food we can no longer eat to the homeless shelter."

"And give the homeless heart attacks and strokes." Jim clutched the book to his chest.

"I see your sense of humor has returned." Blair gave Jim a brief kiss on the lips. "We've survived worse. We'll be OK."



The End