Born Again Part Six: Sojourner
Title: Born Again
Author: Twilight
Feedback: Always welcome
Rated: PG-13
Summary: Dean is going out of his mind and Sam…Sam’s just gone.
Notes: Parts of this story is based on a documentary I saw a year or so ago. The story is completely plotted and outlined and I began before I saw many episodes into season five. I would say this takes place mid season five, somewhere before Abandon all Hope and then goes AU.
Part One
Part Six: Sojourner
Part Six: Sojourner
When he was done with his head CT, the same nurse, John, wheeled him back to his E.R. cubicle.
The test itself wasn’t so bad, loud, but he still managed to drift off with the ear plugs and eye mask the tech had given him and he still felt sleepy.
Once his wheels were locked and the heavier blanket was draped over him, he could feel himself drifting again.
Strange images flashed behind his eyes, but he couldn’t decipher what they might mean.
He was alone, on the road, driving, the windshield wipers beating a hypnotic rhythm against the light rain.
He was supposed to be getting something for someone, but he didn’t know what or who.
And then he could taste the tart tang of key lime pie on his tongue.
The road went on and on, the scenery never changing. Back road after back road and then the sun came out. He slowed, pulled to the shoulder under an overpass and put the car in park.
He opened the door and in the distance he could just make a form, maybe that someone he was missing…
“Sir?”
He jolted awake, the fragments of his dream disappearing as he wiped at his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” a new person stood just inside the pulled curtain of his cubicle. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She walked closer, setting a case she carried down on the counter along the wall. “I’m Kelly Hughey, a forensics specialist from the crime lab.”
She reached for his hand and he shook it, shifting on the bed and pulling the blanket a little closer and up under his chin.
He was uneasy, scared, but not of her. She was tall, but her features were delicate, her hand small in his and he knew she didn’t mean him any harm, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he shouldn’t allow her near him.
‘I’ve spoken with Dr. Jones and she said they are still waiting on your scans to be read, but that I could get started if you have no objections.”
He pushed himself up a little, away from her, but she smiled, moving with slow and deliberate movements, trying to put him at ease as she pulled items from the case she brought and he realized he had yet to answer her.
“I, ah…I have no objections,” and the lilt of his own voice startled him, like he didn’t even recognize his own voice and that scared him more.
What if he did have a brain tumor?
What if he was just going insane?
A thousand frantic thoughts raced through his head, from an illness, to poisoning to an elaborate conspiracy, but why would someone go through all the trouble to cause him the loss of his memory. He wasn’t sure who he was, but for some reason he thought, he wasn’t any one important.
He pushed the paranoia aside as she stepped closer. “If you will just lie on your back for now, I’m going to take some samples and then I’ll sit you up.”
He nodded, shifting flat and waited.
“I’m going to take some swabs, then some hair samples and scraping. It won’t hurt.”
She asked him to open his mouth and what looked like an over sized q-tip was pressed in, rubbing along the inside his cheek and then another ran around and behind his teeth. She shoved the swabs into a collection tubes, sealing and labeling them.
She used long tweezers to pluck a few hairs from his head and they were tucked into a little enveloped, then she took another little envelope and held up his right hand, scraping under each nail with a thin file, before moving on to the other hand, putting the scraping into the envelope before clipping a few nails and doing the same.
He didn’t know why he didn’t like that she clipped his nails; but his stomach felt a little queasy, unsettled about someone having a piece of his body.
“Okay, now for prints.” She used some kind of ink pad and pressed each of his fingers and thumbs to a piece of paper, and then set it aside to dry.
“Okay,” she said, pulling out a strange looking wand from her bag. “This is a black light and it will show me if you have any organic fluids on your body. I’m just going to dim the lights and have a look.”
He endured her search of his body, feeling strangely detached.
His sheets where shifted and his gown moved around, he was asked to move his body too, bend his knees, shift his legs.
He sort of zoned out as she took more samples with swabs and then finally she rearranged his gown, pulled his sheets back up to his chest and the lights came back on.
She pulled out a camera, “let’s sit you up.” She pulled the head of the gurney up and then snapped a few pictures of his face from a few different angles. “All done.”
He nodded, a little overwhelmed. “What…what happens now?”
She answered as she packed his samples and her tools back into her bag, “it should take a few days to get the results, but we’ll run your prints first, see if we can figure out who you are.”
Dr. Jones came in as the tech slipped out. “I have some news,” she told him and he couldn’t tell from the expression on her face if it was good or bad.
“The CT of your brain looks clear.”
Should he be relieved?
“We did find a small tumor on your Pituitary Gland, but we don’t think that could cause your amnesia. Most people with these types of tumors are born with them; the gland itself controls your hormone function, which may explain why you are so tall.”
She sighed then, moving closer to his bed. “It’s something we will keep an eye on, but I don’t think you need to worry about it.”
“Now what?” he asked, because if it wasn’t something physical…
“Since we can’t find a physical cause for your amnesia, I called Dr. Morgan; he’s a psychologist on staff.” She hurried on to assure him, “that just means that your amnesia could be caused by a psychological trauma and Dr. Morgan will be able to help you find out what that might be.”
“O…okay.” Oh, God…he was nuts.
“Don’t worry, John. We’ll get to the bottom of this and get you home to your family.” She patted his leg through the blankets and sheets and then stepped out, speaking to someone in the hall.
His family?
He hadn’t even thought about having a family. Who were his parents? Did he have any brothers or sisters? Was he married, did he have kids?
He looked down to his ring finger, but it was bare.
“John?”
A man stood near him and he didn’t even hear him coming in. “I’m Tony Morgan,” the doctor held out his hand, so he shook it. He was young, just a bit of grey at his temples and dark rim glasses that looked like a throw back to the seventies, not that he should know what glasses from that decade would look like…how did he know that?
“John?”
“Sor..sorry.” He knew he wasn’t making a good first impression.
“It’s okay. You’ve had a really rough day.” He didn’t know why, but the man’s demeanor calmed him, the deep timber of his voice almost familiar. “The orderly is coming and we are going to move you for a seventy two hour evaluation.”
The doctor paused, probably waiting for his reaction, but what could he do? It seemed like the next logical step.
“During that time, I’m going to do my best to help you with your memories. See if we can get to the bottom of your troubles.”
As the doctor talked, he unlocked the wheels on the gurney. “I spoke with the detective on your case. So far they haven’t found your finger prints in the system and no one has reported anyone matching your description missing, but they have several more data bases they can try. In a few days they will return your bag and clothes.” The gurney rolled toward the door and another man met them in the hall. “That’s good,” he said, as the other man took up the head of the bed and Dr. Morgan held onto the side to help guide them down the hall and into an elevator. “It might help you remember having your own things on hand.”
A key was inserted to the panel on the elevator wall and a few buttons pushed. “We’ll get you settled into a room and fed, I bet you’re hungry.”
His belly rumbled at the mention of food and he wondered when the last time was that he ate….what was the last thing that he had eaten?
The doors opened with a ping and they rolled down another hall, but the nurse’s station on the corner was behind glass, the woman in pink scrubs behind it looked up and smiled at him. All the doors to the rooms were shut and he couldn’t see in, the small windows were up to high, but he assumed they were patient’s rooms.
He knew he should be upset, should feel anxious, but he just wasn’t.
The nurse caught up with them as they turned a corner and he spotted one room on this wing with the door opened. They pushed him through and the nurse scooted around the gurney and stood by the bed. “Hey, Hon…I’m Lily.” She released the side bar and asked, “you think you can scoot over here with a little help?”
“Yes, ma’am.” he said, sliding his legs off the gurney as he sat up.
A wave of dizziness swept through him, but after a shaky start he managed to slide down, his bare feet on the cool floor. She pulled the blankets back and he slid in, the IV bag moved to hang from the a pole by his bed and blankets and sheet were pulled up over his chest.
“I’ll be back this evening, John.” the doctor said. The clock on the wall showed that it was nearing two thirty. “Lily will bring in your lunch and then I want you to get some rest.”
He noticed the nurse was fiddling with his IV, but then she looked down at him and smiled. “I’ll be right back, Hon,” and true to her word, she returned with a covered tray, taking off the lid to reveal a sandwich and some chips in a bag, a cup of green jello and a plastic spoon, a little box of apple juice and a pitcher made out of plastic next to a lidless Styrofoam cup.
“Water,” she told him. “One more thing before I go, Hon. I need you to sign this, it’s an admittance form and you’ll get a copy that explains your rights.” She slid the paper over the tray table along with a pen.
He didn’t think anything about scrawling his signature on the line and then he reared back, startled.
She picked up the form and turned it to face her, smiling. “It’s a bit messy, but looks like your name starts with an ‘S’. She turned it to show him his handy work. “I don’t like calling people John or Jane when they can’t remember their name, so we can work with what we got, whatcha think…how about Sunny? You look like you could be a Sunny.”
He doubted that, but it didn’t matter. He had a signature…he had a name…he was somebody and couldn’t help the smile that upturned his lips.
“Okay, Sunny. Get to eating your lunch before the meds kick in. After your nap we’ll tell Doc Morgan the good news.”
He nodded, picking up his ham and cheese and took a bite.
He was excited, still a little scared, but now he knew.
He had a name and it started with an ‘S”.
Part Seven
Author: Twilight
Feedback: Always welcome
Rated: PG-13
Summary: Dean is going out of his mind and Sam…Sam’s just gone.
Notes: Parts of this story is based on a documentary I saw a year or so ago. The story is completely plotted and outlined and I began before I saw many episodes into season five. I would say this takes place mid season five, somewhere before Abandon all Hope and then goes AU.
Part One
Part Six: Sojourner
Part Six: Sojourner
When he was done with his head CT, the same nurse, John, wheeled him back to his E.R. cubicle.
The test itself wasn’t so bad, loud, but he still managed to drift off with the ear plugs and eye mask the tech had given him and he still felt sleepy.
Once his wheels were locked and the heavier blanket was draped over him, he could feel himself drifting again.
Strange images flashed behind his eyes, but he couldn’t decipher what they might mean.
He was alone, on the road, driving, the windshield wipers beating a hypnotic rhythm against the light rain.
He was supposed to be getting something for someone, but he didn’t know what or who.
And then he could taste the tart tang of key lime pie on his tongue.
The road went on and on, the scenery never changing. Back road after back road and then the sun came out. He slowed, pulled to the shoulder under an overpass and put the car in park.
He opened the door and in the distance he could just make a form, maybe that someone he was missing…
“Sir?”
He jolted awake, the fragments of his dream disappearing as he wiped at his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” a new person stood just inside the pulled curtain of his cubicle. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She walked closer, setting a case she carried down on the counter along the wall. “I’m Kelly Hughey, a forensics specialist from the crime lab.”
She reached for his hand and he shook it, shifting on the bed and pulling the blanket a little closer and up under his chin.
He was uneasy, scared, but not of her. She was tall, but her features were delicate, her hand small in his and he knew she didn’t mean him any harm, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he shouldn’t allow her near him.
‘I’ve spoken with Dr. Jones and she said they are still waiting on your scans to be read, but that I could get started if you have no objections.”
He pushed himself up a little, away from her, but she smiled, moving with slow and deliberate movements, trying to put him at ease as she pulled items from the case she brought and he realized he had yet to answer her.
“I, ah…I have no objections,” and the lilt of his own voice startled him, like he didn’t even recognize his own voice and that scared him more.
What if he did have a brain tumor?
What if he was just going insane?
A thousand frantic thoughts raced through his head, from an illness, to poisoning to an elaborate conspiracy, but why would someone go through all the trouble to cause him the loss of his memory. He wasn’t sure who he was, but for some reason he thought, he wasn’t any one important.
He pushed the paranoia aside as she stepped closer. “If you will just lie on your back for now, I’m going to take some samples and then I’ll sit you up.”
He nodded, shifting flat and waited.
“I’m going to take some swabs, then some hair samples and scraping. It won’t hurt.”
She asked him to open his mouth and what looked like an over sized q-tip was pressed in, rubbing along the inside his cheek and then another ran around and behind his teeth. She shoved the swabs into a collection tubes, sealing and labeling them.
She used long tweezers to pluck a few hairs from his head and they were tucked into a little enveloped, then she took another little envelope and held up his right hand, scraping under each nail with a thin file, before moving on to the other hand, putting the scraping into the envelope before clipping a few nails and doing the same.
He didn’t know why he didn’t like that she clipped his nails; but his stomach felt a little queasy, unsettled about someone having a piece of his body.
“Okay, now for prints.” She used some kind of ink pad and pressed each of his fingers and thumbs to a piece of paper, and then set it aside to dry.
“Okay,” she said, pulling out a strange looking wand from her bag. “This is a black light and it will show me if you have any organic fluids on your body. I’m just going to dim the lights and have a look.”
He endured her search of his body, feeling strangely detached.
His sheets where shifted and his gown moved around, he was asked to move his body too, bend his knees, shift his legs.
He sort of zoned out as she took more samples with swabs and then finally she rearranged his gown, pulled his sheets back up to his chest and the lights came back on.
She pulled out a camera, “let’s sit you up.” She pulled the head of the gurney up and then snapped a few pictures of his face from a few different angles. “All done.”
He nodded, a little overwhelmed. “What…what happens now?”
She answered as she packed his samples and her tools back into her bag, “it should take a few days to get the results, but we’ll run your prints first, see if we can figure out who you are.”
Dr. Jones came in as the tech slipped out. “I have some news,” she told him and he couldn’t tell from the expression on her face if it was good or bad.
“The CT of your brain looks clear.”
Should he be relieved?
“We did find a small tumor on your Pituitary Gland, but we don’t think that could cause your amnesia. Most people with these types of tumors are born with them; the gland itself controls your hormone function, which may explain why you are so tall.”
She sighed then, moving closer to his bed. “It’s something we will keep an eye on, but I don’t think you need to worry about it.”
“Now what?” he asked, because if it wasn’t something physical…
“Since we can’t find a physical cause for your amnesia, I called Dr. Morgan; he’s a psychologist on staff.” She hurried on to assure him, “that just means that your amnesia could be caused by a psychological trauma and Dr. Morgan will be able to help you find out what that might be.”
“O…okay.” Oh, God…he was nuts.
“Don’t worry, John. We’ll get to the bottom of this and get you home to your family.” She patted his leg through the blankets and sheets and then stepped out, speaking to someone in the hall.
His family?
He hadn’t even thought about having a family. Who were his parents? Did he have any brothers or sisters? Was he married, did he have kids?
He looked down to his ring finger, but it was bare.
“John?”
A man stood near him and he didn’t even hear him coming in. “I’m Tony Morgan,” the doctor held out his hand, so he shook it. He was young, just a bit of grey at his temples and dark rim glasses that looked like a throw back to the seventies, not that he should know what glasses from that decade would look like…how did he know that?
“John?”
“Sor..sorry.” He knew he wasn’t making a good first impression.
“It’s okay. You’ve had a really rough day.” He didn’t know why, but the man’s demeanor calmed him, the deep timber of his voice almost familiar. “The orderly is coming and we are going to move you for a seventy two hour evaluation.”
The doctor paused, probably waiting for his reaction, but what could he do? It seemed like the next logical step.
“During that time, I’m going to do my best to help you with your memories. See if we can get to the bottom of your troubles.”
As the doctor talked, he unlocked the wheels on the gurney. “I spoke with the detective on your case. So far they haven’t found your finger prints in the system and no one has reported anyone matching your description missing, but they have several more data bases they can try. In a few days they will return your bag and clothes.” The gurney rolled toward the door and another man met them in the hall. “That’s good,” he said, as the other man took up the head of the bed and Dr. Morgan held onto the side to help guide them down the hall and into an elevator. “It might help you remember having your own things on hand.”
A key was inserted to the panel on the elevator wall and a few buttons pushed. “We’ll get you settled into a room and fed, I bet you’re hungry.”
His belly rumbled at the mention of food and he wondered when the last time was that he ate….what was the last thing that he had eaten?
The doors opened with a ping and they rolled down another hall, but the nurse’s station on the corner was behind glass, the woman in pink scrubs behind it looked up and smiled at him. All the doors to the rooms were shut and he couldn’t see in, the small windows were up to high, but he assumed they were patient’s rooms.
He knew he should be upset, should feel anxious, but he just wasn’t.
The nurse caught up with them as they turned a corner and he spotted one room on this wing with the door opened. They pushed him through and the nurse scooted around the gurney and stood by the bed. “Hey, Hon…I’m Lily.” She released the side bar and asked, “you think you can scoot over here with a little help?”
“Yes, ma’am.” he said, sliding his legs off the gurney as he sat up.
A wave of dizziness swept through him, but after a shaky start he managed to slide down, his bare feet on the cool floor. She pulled the blankets back and he slid in, the IV bag moved to hang from the a pole by his bed and blankets and sheet were pulled up over his chest.
“I’ll be back this evening, John.” the doctor said. The clock on the wall showed that it was nearing two thirty. “Lily will bring in your lunch and then I want you to get some rest.”
He noticed the nurse was fiddling with his IV, but then she looked down at him and smiled. “I’ll be right back, Hon,” and true to her word, she returned with a covered tray, taking off the lid to reveal a sandwich and some chips in a bag, a cup of green jello and a plastic spoon, a little box of apple juice and a pitcher made out of plastic next to a lidless Styrofoam cup.
“Water,” she told him. “One more thing before I go, Hon. I need you to sign this, it’s an admittance form and you’ll get a copy that explains your rights.” She slid the paper over the tray table along with a pen.
He didn’t think anything about scrawling his signature on the line and then he reared back, startled.
She picked up the form and turned it to face her, smiling. “It’s a bit messy, but looks like your name starts with an ‘S’. She turned it to show him his handy work. “I don’t like calling people John or Jane when they can’t remember their name, so we can work with what we got, whatcha think…how about Sunny? You look like you could be a Sunny.”
He doubted that, but it didn’t matter. He had a signature…he had a name…he was somebody and couldn’t help the smile that upturned his lips.
“Okay, Sunny. Get to eating your lunch before the meds kick in. After your nap we’ll tell Doc Morgan the good news.”
He nodded, picking up his ham and cheese and took a bite.
He was excited, still a little scared, but now he knew.
He had a name and it started with an ‘S”.
Part Seven